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By MARY E. STICKNEY, 

Author of "Circumstantial Evidence," etc. 


OOnVLIPILiETE!. 


1 PACIFIC ENCOUNTER 


MONTHLY MAGAZINE 
LIPPliCDTTS contents No. 301. 


> PACIFIC ENCOUNTER, (illustrated) 

Spanish Painter. (Illustrated) 

(umility. (Poem) .... 

.n Old-Time Philadelphian. (Portrait) 
rYPSiES and the Poet. (Poem) 

n War-Time 

iCROSS Dug Gap. (Illustrated) . 
in Actress and her Art. (Portrait) 

Iringing Home the Cows. (Poem) 

'oils and Fencing. (Athletic Series.) (Illustrated) 
Sweetheart, to You! (Poem) . 
f I Might Choose. (Poem) 

V Dictionary Session at the Academy 


Men of the Day .... 

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Copyright, i8ga, by J. B. Lippincott Company. Entered at Philadelphia Post-Office as second-class matter 



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0 


PACIFIC 


ENCOUNTER. 

■=£. 



MARY E. STICKNEY, 

AUTHOR OF “CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE, ” “A COWBOY’S STRANGE 
EXPERIENCE, ” “GRANT’S LUCK,” ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA : 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 






Copyright, 1892, by J. B. Lippincott Company. 


Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U.S.A. 


LIPPINCOTT’S 


MONTHLY y[AGAZlNE. 


JANUARY, 1893. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


I. 

GHT RUPERT was standing with his 
friend Don Mariano Hernandez in the ca- 
thedral plaza of Panama, ruefully regarding 
an uninviting mat of green coffee spread 
out on the ground there to dry, remains of 
the cargo of a lighter that had caught fire 
down the bay the night before. 

Over in the western sky a fair cloud- 
fleet was sailing on a shimmering sea of 
gold, proud galleons of smoked pearl with 
rose- red sails, languidly drifting away, as if they bore to a land of 
dreams all the burdens of the long, hot day. It still was very warm, 
the air heavily oppressive, as if the life of it had been burned out ; 
and the thick, white dust of the street was hot to the tread, like ashes 
whose heart-fires were not yet quenched. Up in the cathedral tower a 
drowsy boy was beating the sad-voiced bells with stones, the hoarse 
clangor inexpressibly irritating to heretic nerves, with its uncertain and 
spasmodic measure, as the energy of the unhappy performer fluctu- 
ated ; and a few dark-faced women, with slumberous, passion-freighted 
eyes, were straying in at the wide-open door of the church. 

There was a stir of life about the Grand Hotel, on the other side 
of the plaza, a passing in and out by the broad doors, a flutter of white 
gowns on the gallery overhead. Lounging in the shade below was a 
laughing group of Americanos from the man-of-war lying down the 
bay, handsome young fellows, at whom a butterfly bevy of native girls, 
with jetty eyes and teeth like jewels set in their nut-brown faces, were 
smiling bold invitation as they passed by with free swinging stride 
and the queenly poise of head learned in the carrying of many a burden 
to market, all as unconscious of their lithe seductive grace as they were 



4 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


innocent that there might be aught to criticise in those brief flounced 
polleras that so lavishly disclosed the charms they assumed to clothe. 

Overhead in the clear luminous light, their rusty feathers just 
touched with the dust of gold that the spendthrift god of day was cast- 
ing behind him, hovered in lazy flight a few turkey-buzzards, the city’s 
scavengers, pausing as if to watch, like birds of evil omen, the little 
train that had just issued from a side-door of the church, an acolyte 
ringing a bell as they went, others bearing lighted candles, another 
carrying the great white gold-fringed umbrella over the padre’s head, 
who went, as everybody knew, to carry comfort to one whose soul 
might presently slip away into the shadows beyond that sunset sea of 
gold. The laughing girls, and the trio of native soldiers, marvels of 
dignity and dirt, who were chattering together at the corner, hushed 
their gay noise to draw back humbly, reverently making the sign of 



RUPERT AND DON MARIANO. 


the cross as the cortege passed them by. But scarce for a moment 
was their sunshine clouded : they had met death too often to be fright- 
ened at his shadow, they who had lived their lives in that fever-cursed 
city by the sea, where no sight is more common than those sad little 
processions bearing the last alms of the Church to those poorest of all 
earth’s poor, — the dying. 

“ Confound it !” Rupert explosively ejaculated, seeing nothing but 
the greenish-gray mat of damaged coffee. It was an unpromising lot, 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


5 


dirty and malodorous from its soaking of salt water ; and Rupert, to 
whose branch house in New York it had been consigned, was in a cor- 
respondingly gloomy frame of mind, no little aggravated by sundry 
lesser evils, — the heat, the din of the bells, and most of all, perhaps, 
by a harassing apprehension that Don Mariano would probably invite 
him to dinner. With this vexatious waste of good material before his 
eyes, it appeared as simply beyond the limit of human endurance to 
face with any fair show of courtesy the burning abominations of chile 
that distinguished the Hernandez menu , to say nothing of the added 
ordeal of conversation with Don Mariano’s fat wife, who understood no 
English, and, in Rupert’s opinion, had nothing to say in her own 
tongue worthy the effort of understanding on his part. 

It happened, however, that he was staying on board the Pacific 
Mail steam-ship, the Southern Cross, lying at anchor down the bay, 
and not much before nine o’clock that night could he hope that the 
tide would be up to the old Taller sea-stairs sufficiently high to serve 
for his escape. They called to their aid a mighty ally, the terror- 
stricken people fleeing from the horrors of ruined Panama Viejo, when 
they intrenched themselves behind those grim, far-reaching reefs of 
Panama Bay ; but it is a barrier to hold man prisoner, when the tide 
is out, as inexorably as, in their day, it kept the dreaded buccaneers at 
bay. Rupert fumed to feel himself between the devil and the deep sea, 
as it were, while still prudently reflecting that Don Mariano, who had 
for some time acted as his agent at the Isthmus, had proved an asso- 
ciate whose invitations it would be neither politic nor grateful to treat 
cavalierly. 

“Caramba /” murmured Don Mariano, in his gentle cooing voice, 
his face turned toward the coffee with an expression of sympathetic 
discouragement, but with gaze absently straying away to the consider- 
ably demoralized assemblage of the saints, survivors of many an earth- 
quake, surveying the world from their weed-grown niches in the cathe- 
dral fa§ade, as though he would have invoked their aid. 

The truth was that Don Mariano, on his side, was no little troubled 
in the depths of his courteous soul in respect to that invitation to dine 
which he felt it might be incumbent upon him to offer. The most 
amiable courtesies are pregnant of one grave embarrassment : once 
begun, it is hard to say where they may gracefully stop. Don Mariano, 
having on previous occasions entertained his San Francisco patron with 
all cordial good will, was now at a loss to know how he might break 
loose from the amiable habit he felt he had fastened upon himself. 
Had the amenities of polite life permitted such refreshing candor, he 
might have brought peace to both their troubled souls by explaining 
that on those other occasions when Rupert had stiffly graced the Her- 
nandez board he had so far failed in winning favor with the Dona 
Carlota (of whose whims good Don Mariano, loving peace, was ever 
prudently mindful, the Dofia Carlota being as sharp of tongue as an 
Amaicana del Norte , — Don Mariano could imagine no stronger com- 
parison) that she had at last declared in good set terms that she would 
have no more of him. He had thought — being blessed with a broad 
lack of prejudice against a lie where the truth might seem better in 


6 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


fair disguise — to repeat the excuse that had served him the day before, 
that the Dona Carlota was ill ; but, as if with malice aforethought, she 
had just robbed him of that fair resource by appearing, brave and 
blooming, almost under their very noses, as she passed in at the cathe- 
dral door. Don Mariano, who would as willingly have been convicted 
of crime as of discourtesy, felt himself in sore straits ; but for the 
moment he could only relieve his feelings in another and more despair- 
ing “Caramba!” which it might appear was inspired by contemplation 
of the damaged coffee or the noise of the bells. 

It was at this opportune moment that Bruce Malcolm, emerging 
from the billiard-room of the Grand Hotel, caught sight of the pair, 
and came rushing across the plaza to meet them, shouting out, in his 
irrepressible boyish fashion, an invitation to dine before he had fairly 
given them civil greeting. Here was a deliverance that seemed fairly 
providential. Rupert felt himself absurdly disposed to embrace the 
young fellow upon the spot, while still wondering somewhat what all 
this unusual warmth of hospitality might mean ; and even grave Don 
Mariano was stirred to such lively enthusiasm that it seemed he might 
almost mean literally to follow up his smiling “ Beso d listed la mano !” 

“ I have been looking for you, Rupert,” Malcolm eagerly explained 
as they turned back toward the hotel, slipping his hand through the 
other’s arm with that air of cordial good-fellowship that made him 
beloved of all men. “ Only got in an hour ago, — from Colon, you 
know. Heard you were here ; and I wanted to make sure of cap- 
turing you for dinner.” 

“ And I can assure you that I am quite ready to be led captive in 
such a cause. We will help you to breed a famine on the Isthmus 
with all the good will in the world, — no es verdad , Don Mariano?” 

“ Si, si, senor ; con mucho gusto,” with his usual suave politeness. 
Although he understood Euglish fairly well, and had even been heard 
to speak it with considerable fluency upon occasion, — people said it had 
generally happened when he was in such a temper that the profanity 
of his own language had fallen altogether short of properly relieving 
his feelings, — yet, as a rule, there was nothing that Don Mariano 
hated more than to torment his tongue with other than the mellifluous 
accents to which he was born. “ Doy d usted las gracias, amigo mio.” 

“ No hay de que, Don Mariano ; but, all the same, I wish you 
would talk United States, — -just for style, you know,” the young fellow 
laughingly retorted. “ But I say, Rupert, I have a favor to ask of 
you.” 

“ All right ; fire away. Will you start in with a cigar? — these are 
not bad,” holding out a well-filled case. Don Mariano had left them 
to send a note to his wife. “ And now, old fellow, what is it?” 

“ Oh, nothing much,” complacently drawing at the cigar he was 
lighting. “ Thanks ; and, by Jove! Rupert, this is something like a 
cigar. Where did you get it?” 

“ Havana, — last time I was over. You are not likely to strike 
anything like it here, I fancy. Strange how this climate seems to 
play the deuce with tobacco.” 

“ Oh, it does with everything else, for that matter. But look here, 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


7 


Rupert ; you are going up on the Southern Cross, are you not? — Yes : 
so I thought,” smoking leisurely. “ Well, I want to put my sister 
under your wing for the trip.” 

And he had said it was “ nothing much” he had to ask ! Had 
one of its too common earthquakes shaken the old city of Panama at 
that moment, Rupert could scarcely have looked more startled. “ Your 
sister !” he faltered. “ I did not know that you had a sister, Malcolm.” 

“Well, I have, — and two of them, as it happens. Did you take 
me for a foundling?” with his ever-ready laugh. “The older is mar- 
ried, and has lately gone to San Francisco to live. I have had it in 
mind to ask you to call on her, by the way.” 

“ Thanks,” perfunctorily, seeing that something was expected of 
him. “ But I am not a society man, you know. I don’t do much in 
the calling line.” 

“ But you would not need to stand on ceremony with them, — my 
sisters, you know; you could come and go as you pleased. And you 
would like my sister’s husband, I am sure ; he is one of the best fel- 
lows in the world, — -just your sort,” protested the young fellow, with 
such cordial friendliness that Rupert felt constrained to repeat his 
thanks with a considerable access of warmth. 

“ Betty, who is here,” Malcolm continued, “ has been making me 
a little visit on her way to Frisco. She came down from New York 
three weeks ago, with the Comings of Colon, old friends of ours ; and 
I had arranged with Mrs. Boyd to chaperon her on this trip up ; but 
at the last moment Mrs. B. changed her plans, leaving me in the 
lurch. My sister is expecting to meet a friend in San Francisco, who 
is coming from the East to see her, and was bent on going just the 
same. You know how girls are,” he comprehensively added. 

“ No, I don’t, thank heaven !” Rupert dryly retorted ; “ but I can 
imagine.” 

“Well, don’t imagine that you know it all,” with his infectious 
laughter. “ But perhaps they don’t like to have their own way any 
better than we do, after all,” he magnanimously added. “ A young 
girl travelling alone, though — of course nothing could happen to her — 
but it is not altogether pleasant. It seemed a regular godsend when 
I heard you were here.” 

“ Why, thanks,” returned Rupert, on this topic hopelessly reduced 
to monosyllables. He was anxiously questioning himself if it were 
not worth his while to invent excuse for stopping over till the next 
steamer. 

“ I hope you won’t think it too much of a bore,” observed Mal- 
colm, with a somewhat crestfallen air, struck by the other’s palpable 
lack of enthusiasm. “ Of course my sister is quite capable of taking 
care of herself ; but if you would have an eye on her in a general 
way, — throw her a life-preserver if the ship should happen to run 
ashore, — or anything in that line, you know, — I should feel under an 
everlasting obligation.” 

“ Oh, certainly,” goaded on to something like resignation in com- 
punction for Malcolm’s frankly mortified face; “that is, if I go,” 
bound to leave himself a loophole of escape. “ I am rather looking 


8 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


for a telegram which may compel me to stop over. But still the 
chances are that I shall go; and in that case I shall be most happy to 
be of any use. And, of course, you know,” with a smile somewhat 
strained, “ I feel highly flattered at the honor, — the amiable mark of 
esteem. A delicate tribute to my gray hairs, I take it.” 

“ I did not know that you had any ; but you are welcome to take 
it in the most complimentary light possible,” laughed Malcolm, reas- 
sured at the tone, his momentary chagrin forgotten. Of course Rupert 
was a crotchety old bachelor, a bit shy and offish perhaps where women 
were concerned, but none the less a sterling good fellow, in age and 
character and social standing all that any man might desire as escort 
for his sister. And moreover Malcolm was comfortably persuaded 
that when once he knew sweet little Betty, Rupert would become suffi- 
ciently resigned, not to say grateful, for the office that had, perhaps, 
been rather forced upon him. “ But, of course, you know,” he ingenu- 
ously added, “ I would sooner ask you than a younger man.” 

“ Oh, thanks awfully,” with a sardonic note of laughter. Although 
he had seen less than forty years, Dwight Rupert was well used to 
being reckoned old. The gray hairs of which he spoke were not 
apparent in the short brown beard upon which the heavy moustache 
drooped a shade lighter, nor in the hair of yet a lighter hue that 
showed, damp and clinging, across his forehead as he idly fanned him- 
self with his soft Panama hat. Tall and broad-shouldered, his erect 
soldierly form showed no lack of the brave strength of youth ; nor had 
time traced its mischievous epitaph of dead years about the bluish-gray 
eyes that looked at the world with an unflinching steadiness that prom- 
ised they would miss nothing which fairly came within their range. 
But yet there was an intangible something about the man inspiring 
young fellows to approach him with a certain deference, and moving 
old men to treat him with a sort of good-fellowship, which told him 
beyond mistaking that his youth was reckoned lost. 

“ If I had been going in for mere youth and beauty,” laughed 
Malcolm, with an air of getting off a joke which must be apparent to 
everybody, “ Dick Hazelton hinted that I might call upon him. He 
is going up with you.” 

“No; you don’t mean it?” with a comprehensive grin. Dick 
Hazelton was one of the black sheep whose dyed-in-the-wool wicked- 
ness had, during his residence there, stirred the properly-minded people 
of the Isthmus to ever-fresh astonishment. It rather commonly hap- 
pens, however, that the community that talks the most in virtuous 
condemnation may yet specifically yawn in the face of the saint, while 
betraying a charity fairly excessive in coddling an interesting sinner. 
And thus it was in that quite consciously proper little circle made up 
of the foreign residents, that while they gossiped and exclaimed and 
wagged their virtuous heads over his disreputable doings, society still 
amiably opened its doors to handsome Dick Hazelton, and even made 
much of him in a way, although his attentions to women were none 
the less generally regarded as rather compromising. 

“ I appreciate the comparison,” Rupert dryly added. “ But is he 
really going up with us ? I had not heard of it.” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


9 


“ No ; I suppose not. The fact is that he only divulges the secret 
to a favored few, aud then but in whispers, his scheme being to fold 
up his tent like the Arab, and silently steal away,” with a grin that 
told much, while Don Mariano, who had rejoined them, laughed softly. 

“ Oh !” with swift intelligence : “ so Panama has at last grown too 
hot to hold him ?” 

“Well, rather,” with dry significance. 

“ And which particular one of his little eccentricities has he been 
overdoing?” with true masculine relish for a bit of gossip which might 
be piquantly spiced with evil. 

“ Oh, it is simply his amiable habit of loving not wisely but too 
well. He has passed his affections around here at Panama as liberally 
and impartially as the lump of sugar at one of the old Knickerbocker 
tea-parties, you know. You have heard, of course, of his affair with 
Mrs. Grant. Well, it happened that the lady had a pretty nurse-maid, 
— a native girl, only a shade or two off color, — upon whom King 
Richard cast an amorous eye. Mrs. Grant, however, being by no 
means inspired with the love-me-love-my-dog sentiment, kicked, and 
to such purpose that — ah, by Jove ! — speak of the devil, you know, — 
there he is !” glancing across the plaza, where a young man was saun- 
tering toward them, a young fellow of fair, almost effeminate, beauty, 
clad in dainty white linen, natty and trim from head to foot. 

“ Un diablo hermoso!” murmured Don Mariano, appreciatively 
regarding the advancing shape. 

“Handsome enough, you bet,” agreed Malcolm, with good- 
humored emphasis; “but, I say, Rupert, if he once gets hold of us 
only death can save us from having him with us at dinner. The boys 
have been drinking his health, by way of a send-off, until he has just 
about reached that stage of exuberant sociability when he will stick 
like wax.” 

“ I could knock him down, in a case of liberty or death,” remarked 
Rupert, tentatively. 

“Oh, that would be too much trouble,” protested Malcolm, lan- 
guidly. “ Discretion is the better part of valor when the thermometer 
is in the nineties.” 

And with one impulse the trio moved hastily toward the opposite 
door ; and not until many a day after did it occur to Dwight Rupert 
that he had not, after all, learned the details pertaining to Dick Hazel- 
ton’s departure from Panama. 


II. 

It seemed like a child who rose to meet them as they entered the 
great bare parlor above, a little girl in a simple white frock, who was 
marvellously like her brother when she smiled, a kind of boyish frank- 
ness in her soft brown eyes, an irrepressible kindliness glowing in her 
delicate face, promising that she was ready to be friends with all the 
world. Rupert experienced a slight sensation of relief. He would 


10 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


almost have preferred to undertake the care of an infant in arms rather 
than the fine lady his apprehension had vaguely pictured. 

The introductions were in Spanish, Malcolm speaking with elab- 
orate distinctness while he explained that Don Mariano did not speak 
English. It was plain from the shadow of dismay that flitted across 
her face that Miss Malcolm could not boast the gift of tongues, but her 
smile was no less winning as she extended a slim white hand to each 
in turn, although her lips did not venture to frame a syllable. 

Professing a devouring appetite, Malcolm led the way at once down 
to that quaint little room adjoining the large dining-hall of the Grand 
Hotel, which no one who has ever been there could well forget, with 
its cool tiled floor and the impossible flowers blooming on the gaudily- 
frescoed walls, its heat and flies, and the heavy vitiated atmosphere 
laden with mixed odors of by-gone soup and cigars. Malcolm took 
the head of the table, placing his sister at his right. Don Mariano 
was seated at his other side ; while to Rupert was given the chair at 
the right of the little lady. 

She was scarcely as young as her small stature had at first led him 
to believe, Rupert perceived, furtively glancing at her while he un- 
folded the generous expanse of napkin allotted him, — a long and nar- 
row stretch of linen like a toilet towel strayed from its proper sphere. 
A whimsical apprehension had occurred to him in respect to her youth. 
In his visits to the Isthmus he had observed that very young girls, as 
well as a certain other class rather verging on the sere and yellow leaf, 
seemed alike possessed of a mania for bearing away from Panama an 
outlandish collection of parrots and monkeys. Of all things tropical a 
monkey was his pet abomination ; and the only virtue he had ever been 
able to discover in a parrot was that it would sometimes swear when 
confronted with the hideous grin of its proverbial enemy. It was quite 
in order, with a sort of grim humor he reflected now, that fate, having 
saddled him with the charge of a young woman, should add the usual 
little menagerie to fill his measure of ill luck to overflowing. 

The dinner proceeded with that fictitious air of despatch peculiar to 
the tropical service. With the spasmodic energy of a liberated jack- 
in-the-box, the waiter flew in with soup rich in grease and garlic, pres- 
ently, with the same misleading suggestion of haste, to snatch up the 
scarce-touched plates and vanish again. A seemingly interminable 
interval of fasting, and then, with an air calculated to convey the idea 
that he had been running from the moment of his exit, the fellow was 
back bearing a fish lavishly decorated with onions and chiles , which 
proved not bad in its way, but there was all too little of it. And then 
ensued another period of hungry waiting. 

A woman has usually this advantage over the average man, that 
her temper is not altogether at the mercy of her appetite. Rupert, 
hungry and out of patience, ill-humoredly staring at the grease-stained 
roses on the opposite wall, while his thoughts drifted back to gloomy 
calculations as to his damaged coffee, was roused by a little inarticulate 
sound to turn toward his neighbor. As she caught his eye a smile 
flashed across her face, as sunny and good-humored as if her moiety of 
fish had been a feast. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


11 



“ Hace mucho color , seiior” she said, slowly, with a nervous pains- 
taking which told that the little platitude had been given anxious 
thought before she had ventured to lauuch it forth. 

Rupert stared slightly, until, observing that Malcolm and Don 
Mariano were talking in Spanish, it dawned upon him that her notions 
of courtesy confined them all to the same tongue. It seemed to him 
rather strained and far-fetched, but, after an instant’s hesitation, he 
courteously agreed in that language that it was warm. She remained 
smilingly looking up at him as if she had expected him to say some- 
thing more, but Rupert doggedly devoted himself to the chicken before 
him, which seemed to have been prepared for the table by the slow 
process of drying. If the girl would have their conversation in Span- 
ish, he was grimly resolved that he had nothing to say. But clearly 
Miss Malcolm was in no mood to accept the gold of silence as fair coin 
of sociability. With an air of determined friendliness, after a little, 
she made another and more ambitious attempt. 

“Cuanto tiempo ha vivido usted en Panama ?” she asked. 

Her lisping pronunciation, the Castilian accent of the boarding- 

school, seemed to Rupert, who had 
learned what he knew of the lan- 
guage orally, with the demoralized 
rendering of Central 
America, as ridiculous af- 
i fectation. He wanted to 

j laugh as the words dropped 

1 mincingly from her lips 


“ OH, BRUCE, CAN’T HE REALLY UNDERSTAND ONE WORD OP ENGLISH ?” 


and he considered the predicament in which he found himself. To 
have escaped the Dofia Carlota with her bewildering Panama patois , 
only to be douched with this school-girl Castilian, struck him as 


12 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


a large joke, no less to be enjoyed in its way that he was himself the 
victim. 

His lips twitched mutinously while he responded, with a stiff 
attempt at gravity, that he was simply visiting Panama on business, 
and would — plegue a Dios! — sail the next day; while at the end, 
comprehending from the utter bewilderment of her face that she had 
scarce grasped the meaning of a word, he was driven to turn his head 
to hide the derisive smiles that quivered upon his lips. Well, if she 
would try to converse in a language she did not understand, in his 
opinion it was quite right she should “ get left.” 

But Miss Malcolm was in no frame of mind for laughter. With 
an air of utter despair she leaned toward her brother, her murmured 
plaint perfectly audible to the other concerned : “ Oh, Bruce, can’t he 
really understand one word of English ?” 

“Who? — you don’t mean Rupert?” looking amazed; then, with 
a roar of his ready boyish laughter, grasping the situation, “ Good 
gracious ! Have you been trying to talk to him in Spanish ? — and did 
he let you? — Well, that does take the cake, as the saying is.” 

“ But certainly you told me that your friends could not speak 
English,” glancing from one to the other question ingly, her cheeks 
crimsoning. 

“ Oh, you mixed those children up, so to speak. My explanation 
applied only to our friend on the other side, who is one of the kind of 
birds that can sing, but won’t, — no es verdad , Don Mariano ? As to Ru- 
pert, though — well, that is a good one !” laughing again. Nobody could 
accuse Bruce Malcolm of ever missing the smallest excuse for laughter. 

“ It is the most astonishing thing,” exclaimed his sister, rather 
huffily, addressing her neighbor, “ what a difference of taste there is in 
the matter of jokes.” 

“ It is, indeed,” very gravely. “ Now, this — it is fairly tragic, is 
it not? — that I should have gotten myself mistaken for a native — to 
no manners born ?” 

At the languid mockery of his tone there was a flash of indignation 
in her glance. “ It was simply cruel of you, I think, to let me go on 
in that idiotic fashion, — not to explain,” with severe reproach. “I 
could not have thought it of you.” 

“ But — it was dull in me, no doubt — I supposed that you preferred 
Spanish,” he urged, apologetically. 

“ Preferred !” leaning back in her chair and staring up at him as 
if quite overwhelmed with the abounding absurdity of this idea. “ Did 
you think me utterly cracked ?” 

“Why should I?” his protest the warmer in tone for the little 
sense of guilt as he reflected how nearly his thought had been some- 
thing like that. “ I thought you very Kind and friendly.” 

“ Oh, come ; I want to shoulder all the responsibility of that break 
myself,” interrupted Malcolm. “ I might have known that poor Betty 
could not catch on to my Isthmus lingo, when, owing to the peculiar 
beauties of my pronunciation, even the natives themselves don’t appear 
to understand half I say to them. You two would better shake hands 
and be friends, and then turn about and forgive me.” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


13 


“Shall we?” murmured Rupert, in a tone that essayed to be 
politely persuasive, but with a shade of weariness. The little episode, 
calling attention to the fact that, sitting beside a pretty girl, he had 
only opened his mouth in favor of his soup, had made him feel rather 
ridiculous for the moment ; and he had a half-resentful feeling that it 
would have been in better taste if they had changed the subject. 

“You’d better make peace with Rupert, even if you hold over a 
grudge against me,” her brother carelessly interpolated ; “ for I have 
promised him a fortnight of angelic behavior on your part.” 

“ I cannot imagine what possessed you to do anything so rash.” 

“ Oh, I felt driven to it for the credit of the family, you know. 
And Rupert has promised, if you will be a very good girl, that he will 
have an eye on you on this trip to Frisco.” 

“ Oh, if it was upon such terms ” 

“ But it was quite unconditional,” protested Rupert, the sense of 
weariness growing upon him. “I am to throw you a life-preserver if 
the ship springs aleak, — that was the only duty you mentioned, Mal- 
colm, was it not? — and the only condition is that you will be good 
enough to catch it when I throw.” 

“ Oh, if that is all,” regarding him with smiling doubt, “ I suppose 
we might manage, perhaps, to agree upon so much as that.” 

“ I thought it quite safe to promise, for my part.” 

“Trusting in Providence to preserve the ship from springing 
aleak ?” 

“ Trusting in Providence with entire confidence that it is to be a 
pleasant voyage,” with an attempt at gallantry for which he took to 
himself great credit. As little as he could really wish to have his 
journeying hampered by the presence of a woman, he felt that he was 
taking it very well. 

“The chances are that you will go?” put in Malcolm, rather 
anxiously. 

“ Why, yes,” hesitating, with a sensation as of burning his bridges 
behind him. “ I think now that there is very little question about it.” 


III. 

Without calling himself a woman-hater, Dwight Rupert regarded 
the sex at large with a contemptuous indifference more unflattering than 
active dislike. His mother was to him but the shameful, unhappy 
memory of a helpless, silly beauty, whose frivolous dissipations, with 
her selfishness and peevish temper, had spoiled his father’s life and 
made his own childhood a time of forlorn wretchedness that his heart 
dully ached now to remember. It had been one of those every-day 
tragedies so common as scarce to excite remark, if the names happen 
to be unknown, as one reads the outlines in the daily papers. There 
had been a foolish — perhaps a wicked — woman, a wrecked home, and 
finally the scandal of a divorce-case ; and Rupert, who had been a 
mere child when the shameful little drama had been played out before 
his wondering eyes, had never looked upon his mother’s face again. 


14 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


The father’s bitterness had kept them rigidly apart from the world of 
womankind while he lived ; and the son scarce might guess how much 
of tenderness and beauty he had missed in that subtle education of 
character that comes of surroundings. The child robbed of a mother 
by death has lost the richest influence for good his life could ever 
know ; but the other, orphaned while his mother lives, robbed at her 
hands of his birthright of love, has been given a heritage of evil that 
must inevitably warp his life in some shape awry. Rupert was em- 
phatically a man for men : he had no use for women, he used bluntly 
to declare, the father’s virulent prejudice dulled in him to cold and 
distrustful indifference. He tolerated women as a necessary evil, one 
of nature’s amiable blunders, and, for his own part, could quite have 
found it in his heart to echo Boucicault’s unholy wish that Adam had 
died with all his ribs in his body. 

And, now, to find himself booked as escort for a young woman was 
a state of things as amazing as vexatious. He could not but feel 
gloomily persuaded that all the craft and subtlety of the devil must 
have been at work in his affairs to bring him to such a strait, — a view 
of the case quite sympathetically endorsed by his friend the captain of 
the Southern Cross, a bachelor with a wide seafaring experience. 

In the opinion of that doughty officer, woman at sea was at her 
worst. Aside from her lapses of sense in littering a good ship with 
parrots and monkeys, she was always a bundle of nervous fears, for- 
ever requiring to be coddled and reassured. If she were not sea-sick, 
she was given to abnormal spasms of energy, impelling her to plank 
the deck at all hours, pressing into service unhappy men, who must 
perforce go unsolaced by cigars the while, lest the smoke make her ill. 
She must go curiously prowling through the steerage, she must climb 
to the bridge, and go down to examine the engine, with a continuous 
flow of questions upon every subject betwixt sea and sky, while to the 
answers she so pertinaciously extorted she never by any chance listened. 
If she were sea-sick, all well and good. The captain regarded with a 
large toleration, almost tinged with sardonic approval, that class of 
weak ones who unobtrusively stayed below and nursed their nausea ; 
but for their obstreperous sisters, as stout of stomach as of limb, who 
cheerfully haunted the decks of the Southern Cross in every sort of 
weather, he unhesitatingly averred that personally he had no sort 
of use. 

“ Oh, she’ll feel herself privileged to holy-stone the deck with you 
if the whim strikes her,” he grimly prophesied, after the lugubrious 
spirit of Job’s comforters. “ I know their ways ! I’ve had to take a 
thousand or more in tow in my day ; but now I’m through. Nowa- 
days, when any fellow asks me to look after his sister, or his cousin, or 
his aunt, I don’t refuse; but I heave her onto the purser. It comes 
hard on him, — poor fellow ! — now and then, but self-preservation is 
the first law of nature. You would better try to work up a deal with 
the purser yourself.” 

“ Heaven knows I would like to,” groaned Rupert, with a sincerity 
not to be questioned. 

But that anticipation may be worse than reality Rupert was 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


15 


agreeably reminded before the first day of the voyage was spent. It 
was well after noon when they sailed away from the pretty green 



islands of Panama 
Bay, — Flamenco, 
with its sorry rows 
of sailor graves 
given over to the 
fiddler crabs, the 
green mound of 
Culabra, crowned 
with its one lonely 
bird-box building, 
the prey of wind and wave, the busy coaling- 
station of Isla de Naos, with its thrifty hud- 
dle of shops and offices, and the shadowy 
Tabogaand Taboguilla lying behind, wrapped 
in the soft haze of the tropical noonday ; away 
from the brave company of men-of-war and 
merchantmen lying at anchor there, with the 
swarm of small craft around them ; away from the fair picture of the 
city nestled at the foot of old Mount Ancon up the bay, its menacing 
reefs, now hidden under a gay spread of waters, hinting nothing of 
danger, its yellow-gray walls and red-tiled roofs glowing invitingly in 
their tangle of greenery crowned with the plumy pompons of tall 
palms, the fair city beckoning them back like a temptress until the 
green height of Flamenco was rounded, and they on the decks of the 
Southern Cross saw themselves swiftly borne away from the haunting 
charms of fair Panama Bay. 



If) 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


Miss Malcolm carried no pets, either furred or feathered. Com- 
fortably established in a shaded corner of the deck, as the city faded 
from sight and they were fairly on their way, she appeared at once 
absorbed in a book she had, quietly suggesting a preference for being 
left alone that was wondrously reassuring to her apprehensive cavalier. 
He felt it incumbent upon him to approach her to exchange a word in 
amiable show of friendliness, now and then ; but the placid indifference 
of her brief replies told courteously but no less plainly that it was not 
expected that he should at all devote himself to her entertainment. So 
entirely reassured did he finally become in respect to his charge that, 
occupied with the fascinations of “ four-hand crib” in the smoking- 
room when the dinner-hour arrived, he actually forgot the duties 
laid upon him altogether, and was proceeding complacently down to 
the saloon alone, when the laughter and chatter of the other women 
brought him up short, with a start of dismay, at the foot of the com- 
panion-way. It was honest shame that possessed him as he remorse- 
fully hurried back ; and his sunburned face assumed a deeper red as 
he met her coming down by herself. 

“ I was just coming to find you,” he said, a genuine friendliness, 
born of contrition, in his voice. 

“Ah, why did you bother to come back?” letting him see that she 
knew his courtesy was an after-thought, but with a friendly littl£ smile 
that half robbed the words of their hidden sting. “ I don’t want you 
to think of me in the light of duty, Mr. Rupert,” she laughingly de- 
clared : “one always hates one’s duties, you know.” 

“Does one?” rather absently staring up at her. How pretty she 
looked there on the higher step smiling down at him, with the brown 
fringe of hair blown all in disorder over her forehead, with the wild- 
rose tint the tropical sun had burned upon her cheeks, the merry red- 
lipped mouth, and the limpid brown eyes with the soft glints of amber 
in their depths, the tints of a mountain-brook coquetting with the 
sunshine. Her loveliness came upon Rupert as a sort of revelation in 
the brief glance he cast up at her. It occurred to him that some pretty 
protest might be expected of him in answer to her last remark, but he 
could think of nothing that did not sound like fulsome flattery as he 
vaguely framed the words in his mind ; and so, the more stiff and 
constrained from his embarrassment, he only turned abruptly back 
down the stair, saying, half over his shoulder, “ Shall we go down to 
dinner?” 

He might have been as amazed as disquieted, had he chanced 
suddenly to glance back, to discover the girl, as she followed in seem- 
ing meekness, with a little moue half amused half petulant, furtively 
shaking her small fist at his broad back. But of this, happily, Rupert 
could know nothing; while he strove to make himself agreeable at 
dinner with a complacency only occasionally disturbed by the captain’s 
sardonic glances. And afterward, punctiliously resolved to atone for 
his brief lapse of duty, he offered his arm for a promenade on deck 
quite as a matter of course. 

“ But isn’t it rather a bore?” protested Betty, with an air of smiling 
indifference, pausing by her steamer-chair. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


17 


“ Oh, if you think so ” considerably taken al>ack. 

“Do you like it?” 

“ I suppose so, though I have never particularly analyzed the feel- 
ing. At any rate, I have rather a habit of planking the deck after 
dinner when I am at sea.” 

“ While you smoke ?” 

“ Exactly.” 

“ Then, if I come with you, will you smoke just the same?” with 
the air of driving a bargain. 

“ Of course I shall only be too glad,” somewhat doubtfully abstract- 
ing a cigar from its case, “ if you really mean it.” 

“ Certainly ; of course,” solicitously watching the flickering life of 
the match bravely holding its own against the buffeting of the fresh 
salt-scented breeze. “ It must be rather nice to smoke,” she remarked 
as they walked along, smiling up at him with that air of good-fellow- 
ship that, in a soft idealized way, made her so like her brother. 

“ Yes,” he comfortably assented, feeling for the moment at peace 
with all the world. The brief tropical twilight was ended, and the 
cool damp wind, that in some weird quest seemed softly feeling its way 
to earth through the darkness, was inexpressibly refreshing after the 
burning glare of the day. 

“I can hardly understand it,” she went on, confidentially. “I 
have tried it, you know, — that is, cigarettes.” 

“No? — have you ?” staring down at the innocent upturned face 
with rather blank astonishment. 

“ Oh, yes,” with a gay little laugh at his surprise. “ But I never 
discovered the fascination there seems to be in it. Except for the little 
arriere-pensee of wickedness, I am sure none of us would have bothered 
to try it a second time. It was like poker in that respect We used 
to play poker — for beans — at boarding-school, you know, when we 
were supposed to be in bed and asleep. It seemed so delightfully dis- 
sipated, — to smoke and play poker, — but I don’t think that any of us 
really enjoyed it” 

“ No ?” considerably amused. She seemed like some irresponsible 
child, whose naughtinesses were only to be laughed at. “It must 
have seemed rather flat and unprofitable indeed to have had nothing 
but a lot of dried beans to show for all your trouble.” 

“ Oh, but I never had even those,” she ruefully declared. “ I 
always lost them by the quart” 

“ That was hard,” laughed Rupert “ It must have been conducive 
to no end of repentance and good resolutions next day. I have ob- 
served that people are generally most conscience-stricken when their 
wickedness has been unprofitable.” 

With a pleasant sense of surprise it struck him that the child was 
quite original and amusing; and when she had, as it appeared to him, 
the remarkably good taste to retire early and leave him free for his 
evening of whist, Rupert became almost enthusiastic about her. 

“ But wait a bit,” quoth the astute captain, with dark significance. 
“ You can never swear to a smooth voyage till you are safe in port.” 

But so amiably disposed had Dwight Rupert become regarding his 
Voi_ LI.— 2 


18 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


office that when next morning the ship was tossing in rather a 
“choppy” sea, and Betty Malcolm was undeniably sea-sick, he dis- 
covered a certain pleasure in his friendly zeal for her comfort, helping 
her up on deck and establishing her chair in a sheltered corner, where 
he brought iced champagne, and sat beside her, diverting her mind 
with idle chat while he watched his prescription bringing back the soft 
rose-bloom to her cheeks and calling out the shadowed brightness of 
her eyes. And when, with reviving spirits, stimulated by the wine, 
she began talking, Rupert found himself listening with the same sur- 
prised sense of amusement he had so curiously enjoyed the night 
before. She talked in a careless impersonal fashion, as one good fellow 
to another : of her brother, of whom she was very fond ; of the quaint 
old city they had left behind, with its queer customs and polyglot 
society ; of Colon, where she had been more, because of her brother’s 
work lying at that side of the Isthmus, and because of their friend 
Mrs. Corning, who lived there, and who had acted as Betty’s chaperon. 
It was all so interesting, so delightful, the girl brightly declared; but, 
drawing a long face, one’s hair would not crimp there : it was a great 
drawback. 

“ Bangs turn straight and curls forget their cunning at just about 
nineteen degrees north latitude, — I made a note of the fatal spot as we 
came down on the other side, — the real line of beauty, I call it,” she 
confidentially informed him. “ Below that point one’s foretop always 
looks as if one had just emerged from a Turkish bath. You can make 
some* impression with a hot iron, to be sure, but it is only a fleeting 
show; while as to curl-papers, they are simply a snare aud delusion. 
You can have no idea what a trial is involved for one’s temper in such 
a state of things.” 

“ I suppose so,” he returned, laughing with a sort of Peeping Tom 
sense of enjoyment, as of being initiated into mysteries it scarce were 
fitting *hat his sex should penetrate. “ Perhaps the cause of the 
u. ' w ay be that below the point you mention nature has very 
gei. , crimped the hair herself, and is jealous of rivalry.” 

“ \ ery likely. Nature rules the year in the tropics ; aud it seems 
pretty nearly useless to try to contend against her in any way.” And 
from tHs she was reminded to launch into a discussion as to the chances 
of success for the Canal, on the line of which her brother was engaged in 
making surveys. The great scheme, then in its dazzling infancy, was, 
at the time, the main topic of interest in that quarter of the globe ; and 
Rupert discovered that Miss Betty was quite surprisingly well informed 
as to the natural conditions, the possibilities and impossibilities, of the 
undertaking; while incidentally she referred to the Monroe doctrine 
with a familiarity that filled her listener’s soul with new surprise. He 
had scarce imagined her interested in any doctrine not directly bearing 
on the curling of her hair or the cut of her gowns. 

He did not realize how completely his r6le of guardian had taken 
possession of his fancy, how genuine was the interest the girl had 
roused in him, until, coming up on the quarter-deck in the late after- 
noon, he found Miss Betty engaged in gay conversation with Dick 
Hazelton. Had the girl been bound to him by ties of kinship, could 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


19 


he have felt himself legitimately responsible for her, Rupert’s blood 
could scarce have boiled more fiercely at the sight. He had been ac- 
customed to regard Dick Hazelton with good-humored indifference, to 
laugh at his ridiculous escapades with the careless indulgence we are 
apt to accord our neighbors’ sins when they appear in amusing situa- 
tions and do not happen unduly to interfere with our own pleasures. 
But Rupert had been trained in certain old-fashioned principles that 
had left his own life singularly clean, — that made moral cleanliness 
seem to him now but decent and fitting in association with the innocent 
child he conceived Betty Malcolm to be. 

“Guess you won’t have to work up a deal with the purser, after 
all,” dryly observed the captain, by whose side he stopped. 

“ I would like to work up a deal with somebody to pitch that 
fellow overboard,” he wrathfully retorted. “ He is not fit to talk to a 
child like that.” 

“ Oh, that is a matter of opinion,” placidly. “ Our young friend 
seems to have no fault to find with him.” 

“ I thought he had not come, — or, rather, I had not thought about 
him at all,” pursued Rupert, sullenly. “But I have not noticed him 
on board before.” 

“ No ; he has hardly been in shape to show up under full sail until 
this,” with an expressive grin. “ He was on beam-ends when they got 
him on board and packed him someway up in his bunk. The boys 
had been giving him a good deal of a send-off, and they all had a good 
deal more on board than they could carry with a steady keel when they 
brought him out from shore. And he hasn’t done much but splice the 
main braces since. The doctor said this morning that he would have 
to cut him off from his grog; and I suppose that is the explanation of 
his appearance now.” 

“ He is about as bad as they make ’em,” in a tone of angry convic- 
tion. U ] \ 

“Oh, as to that — God knows!” with a shrug of his broad' :J P~- 
ders. Whatever might be his strictures in respect to women, lift 
men Captain Cornell was never lacking in a large toleration for the 
frailties of his own sex. “ When you come to size him all up, he may 
have broken no more of the ten commandments than the rest'bf us, 
after all. He has perhaps picked out different ones to monkey with ; 
but that is merely a question of taste. I don’t suppose it really makes 
much difference up aloft whether a fellow forgets to remember the 
Sabbath day to keep it holy, or happens to covet his neighbor’s wife : 
the whole ten of the shalls and shan’ts seem held up pretty much 
alongside, and not a word in the whole business about taking a drop 
too much. Poor Hazelton isn’t quite so black as he is painted, in my 
opinion. He isn’t half a bad fellow when he is sober.” 

“ * When he is sober’ ! — mighty Scott ! I have no use for inter- 
mittent decency,” with sharp impatience. 

“ Well, when you run across any other kind you’d better drop a 
postal to Barnum ; he offers a pretty liberal price for freaks, I’m told.” 

“But, confound it, Cornell, give the devil his due as much as you 
please, but you know as well as I that Hazelton is not the sort of fel- 


20 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


low you would want to see talking to your sister. And that child is 
travelling in my charge ; I feel responsible for her,” viciously chewing 
the end of his cigar, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. “ For 
the time being I stand loco parentis, don’t I ?” with a vexed laugh. 
“ I believe it is my duty to walk over to Hazelton and say to him, 

‘ Hands off!’ ” 

“ Oh, I don’t think I’d trouble if I were you,” advised the other, 
with grinning nonchalance. “ You remember Don Quixote’s tilt with 
the windmill : it did not really pay, you know. Girls nowadays are 
rigged to sail pretty close to the wind, — they all do, — but they get 
there just the same. You can’t pack the girl in cotton ; and you are 
not responsible if Hazelton happens to make love to her.” 

“ If he does happen to, I’ll break his head just the same,” with 
dogged determination, laughing grimly. 

“ Well, there’s a marline-spike, when you get ready to use it ; but 
you would better think twice about it. I should awfully hate to have 
to put you in irons this trip,” with a smiling shrug. 

While minded in the main to take the captain’s advice and refrain 
from meddling, Rupert could not help asking, when they were at din- 
ner, vexed that the words sounded in his ears like the blunt insolence 
of a school-boy, “ And how does it happen that you are acquainted 
with Hazelton, Miss Malcolm ?” 

“ Oh, one knows everybody at the Isthmus,” with a slight stare of 
surprise at the tone. “ He tells me that he promised my brother to 
look after me too,” she nonchalantly added. “ It ought to be a large 
relief to you to feel that you may somewhat share your responsi- 
bilities.” 

“Do you think so?” he returned, stiffly, nervously breaking a bit 
of bread to crumbs. “Your brother remarked to me that Hazel- 
ton had rather made a tender of his services,” he went on, awk- 
wardly, after a moment, — “ but I understood him to say that he had 

declined the ” hesitating, with a sarcastic smile, “shall I say the 

honor ?” 

“ Yes; it was so kind of him to offer, was it not?” a dangerous 
gleam in the limpid depths of her soft eyes as she guilelessly smiled 
up at him, with feminine finesse ignoring the point he had tried to 
make. “ One so appreciates gratuitous kindness, don’t you know ? It 
is cruelly rasping upon my self-love, but all the same, you know, I 
have a melancholy conviction that there are men so lacking in taste 
that they would about as lief be shot as to have a fortnight of my 
society thrust upon them. And of course,” with a broader smile, 
“ this reflection suggests a comparison in the light of which Mr. Hazel- 
ton appears anything but odious. Indeed, to tell the truth,” with an 
air of innocent audacity, “ I think him very nice.” 

“ That is what women generally say of him, I believe,” feeling his 
face reddening angrily. 

“ Yes,” placidly smiling still. “ One would naturally remark 
it of him : so many men are not nice, you know. And the few 
that are — well, they generally have their intermittencies, don’t you 
think?” 3 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


21 


“ Always excepting the rare and perfect Hazelton, of course,” in a 
hard, sneering voice. 

“ Oh, as to that, quien sabe ?” smiling indifferently. “ I have yet to 
discover.” 


IV. 

It was nearly high noon when the ship came to anchor in the open 
roadstead off Punta Arenas. The blue garment of the sea was all 
aflicker with phantom jewels as it crept on with soft murmurs as of 
tender suppliance to where, stretching out white appealing arms, it 
languorously threw itself upon the brawny brown breast of earth. 
The little place looked uninvitingly torrid, reaching out in a long low 
line of color beyond the wide yellow beach, its cream-white walls and 
red and yellow roofs bare and baking under a scanty fringe of tall 
palms that faintly stirred in the breeze, the distant line of mountains 
behind but a shimmering shadow of palest violet in the hot hazy light. 
But it was land, offering relief from the gathering ennui of life on 
shipboard ; and quickly the boats were filled that had come out from 
shore, manned by grinning scantily-clothed natives, vigorously wielding 
their clumsy paddles spliced out with long poles, not caring a whit, in 
the rich harvest they might reap from tourist curiosity, that the ther- 
mometer registered ninety-three in the shade. 

Rupert, looking for Miss Betty to go down to lunch, found her 
looking dainty as a dew-washed flower, in a fresh white gown, hat and 
gloves on and parasol in hand. 

The long voyage between Panama and San Francisco offers one 
agreeable change from the usual routine of travel. The continuous 
differences of climate encountered, making almost imperative a corre- 
sponding gamut of clothing, tend to a display of toilet on the part of 
the ladies on shipboard altogether more attractive than the dull mo- 
notony of travelling costume generally affected by womankind. But 
Rupert’s gaze as he took in the details of the pretty toilet before him, 
and comprehended its meaning, was more dismayed than admiring. 

“Are we going to lunch first?” asked the girl, with the pout of a 
spoiled child, her glance daring him to call her anything but charming. 

There can come no more trying condition into the development of 
character than beauty coupled with that subtle magnetism which we 
vaguely define as charm of manner. Only the saints translated can 
bear the strain of continual incense and praise without being spoiled. 
Betty Malcolm from her babyhood had been queen of her little world. 
Her fairy-like physique, the exquisite sweetness of her smile, her 
flower-like prettiness, and the dainty grace that characterized her, made 
all that she did seem simply charming, and, by her doing it, right. It 
followed as a matter of course that, with a naturally kind heart, the 
girl was wilful, thoughtless, and capricious ; a spoiled child hesitating on 
the verge of what might be, lacking the saving grace of a great love to 
lift her out of herself, a selfish and shallow womanhood. She had 
learned to expect of the world only petting and indulgence ; and in 
return it was easy to offer a smiling face and that universal sweetness 


22 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


of manner that was really but the amiable cloak of utter indifference. 
She scarce could help the little air of flirting that marked her manner 
with men, which was merely the legitimate outgrowth of unthinking 
and joyous good humor, filling her with sweet willingness to please 
and be pleased, with no care for cost or consequences. She had grown 
accustomed to the incense of admiration from all eyes, to accept as her 
right the tribute of idle nothings which told that men found her fair. 
She could not see — she did not want to see — what thorns might lie be- 
neath the roses, how much of real passion and pain might crop out 
from the careless game of coquetries and compliments that she found 
so amusing. She only wanted to have a good time, to enjoy the pass- 
ing hour unfettered. Rupert’s indifference, his seeming unconscious- 
ness of all her charms and graces, was a new experience, that piqued 
and curiously interested the girl. With him she felt ever spurred on 
to show herself more lovely, more winsome; to interest him in spite 
of himself ; to force into those cool gray eyes a spark of that fire for 
which she had rarely looked in vain in the eyes of men. Now, coming 
straight from her mirror, in her pretty gown audaciously aflutter with 
ribbons of palest blue, full of girlish joy in the consciousness of look- 
ing her best, there fell upon her a sensation of disappointment and 
keen exasperation as Rupert came toward her with his usual blank 
unconscious gaze. 

“Why, did you think of going ashore?” he faltered, with tactless 
dismay. The girl grew red as a rose in the mortification of the mo- 
ment. 

“ It was very stupid of me,” she said, shamefacedly, but with a hint 
of gathering wrath, “ but I took it for granted we were going. Every- 
body else is,” glancing dispiritedly over the side, where the passengers 
in harum-scarum fashion were scrambling from the accommodation- 
ladder into a lurching flat-bottomed launch. “ But of course it is of 
no consequence,” she perfunctorily added. 

“ But it is of consequence ; and I am awfully sorry,” earnestly, if 
somewhat awkwardly. “I never go ashore at these ports myself if I 
can help it ; and it did not once occur to me that you could care to see 
the place. And the man I want to see is on his way by now to see me 
here, so that I don’t see how I can go. It is very unfortunate ; and I 
am very sorry, as I am sure you must understand.” 

“ Oh, don’t speak of it,” apathetically watching the receding boats 
gayly bobbing from one dazzling foam-crested wave to another toward 
the shore. 

“ But there is nothing on earth to see there,” in eager effort to be 
at once consolatory and apologetic. “And if there were, there is 
always a wind blowing to fill your eyes so full of sand that you could 
not possibly see anything. They do have a little oyster, to be sure, 
that is rather nice,” in a tone of impartial justice ; “ but, whether in 
the way it is cooked, or owing to some innate depravity in the creature 
itself, it generally makes you sick if you eat it.” 

Betty was not listening. She had turned to Dick Hazelton, who 
had come up on the other side. 

“ What, Mr. Hazelton ! did you not go ashore?” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 23 

“Obviously not,” he laughed, surveying her with eyes boldly 
admiring. “ I waited to see if you were going.” 

“ Well, we are not, as it happens,” with a rueful face. 

“ But why not ?” his glauce including Rupert in the query. 
“ What’s the matter with trying a taste of terra firma f” 

“ You will get a pretty large taste of it over there if the usual 
dust-storm is raging,” returned Rupert, gruffly. “ I should go all the 
same,” he rather unwillingly added, addressing more particularly 
Betty’s small pink ear as she stood with averted face staring seaward, 
— “ I should go, if only to let Miss Malcolm try the flavor of Costa 
Rica sand ; but, unfortunately, I have an engagement with my agent 
here, who is coming out to the ship to see me.” 

“ But you are not engaged to meet this man,” turning to Betty 
eagerly. “ Why won’t you go ashore with me ? There is a boat down 
there that has not yet gone.” 



“Why, thank you ; I shall be delighted,” her face brightening, — 
“if Mr. Rupert will excuse me,” as a careless after-thought as she 
started to go. 

“Oh, certainly,” he ejaculated shortly, burning with impotent 
wrath. The spectacle of a pure young girl going away alone with a 
fellow of the Hazelton stripe seemed to Rupert simply monstrous. He 
had a sense of participated crime in having permitted it, the more irri- 
tating for his conscious helplessness, the more pricking upon his con- 
science that he began to feel himself primarily to blame. He regarded 


24 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


it as pure childish perversity, a whim wholly unreasonable, that the 
girl should have persisted in going where nothing more interesting was 
to be discovered than heat and dust. But, if she would go, he was 
testily persuaded now that he might easily have managed to take her 
himself. As for the man who was coming on board to see him — he 
fairly blushed now for the weak ingenuity that had devised that flimsy 
excuse : as if he could not have turned the man back to meet him 
ashore ! 

She gave him a flower from the great bunch at her belt, when she 
came back in the afternoon, a happy brightness in her eyes, her face 
flushed to rose-bloom loveliness. She had had a perfectly lovely time ; 
she would not have missed it for anything. There was little to see in 
the place, — he had been right about that, — but the little there was 
there was charmingly quaint and tropical. And they had had a de- 
licious comida, — chile con came, tortillas, and frijoles, of course, and no 
end of dulces ; and, oh, — with the frank greediness of a child, — she 
was so fond of dulces ! 

“ Sweets to the sweet,” murmured Dick Hazelton, who lingered as 
loath to leave her. 

“ Oh, don’t !” with a pettish pout. “ So many men say that — when 
they cannot think of anything else to say. It is a regular old stand-by 
with the great majority. Do try to be original, Mr. Hazelton.” 

“ Ah, give me time,” he laughingly pleaded, “ and I will be any- 
thing you like.” 

Dwight Rupert sat still for a long time after Betty had left him, 
reviewing, with ever-gathering impatience, the chain of circumstances 
that had brought him to this present quandary. Again, in fancy, he 
was standing in the cathedral plaza of Panama, bitterly smiling now 
to remember how dully unconscious he had been that other day that 
fate could have anything worse in store for him than that lot of dam- 
aged coffee on the grass. It struck him now as grimly amusing that 
he had been so eager to escape the Scylla of Don Mariano’s hospitality 
but to run afoul of the Charybdis that lurked behind Bruce Malcolm’s 
invitation. From that moment, he felt, ill luck had fallen upon him 
thick as the leaves that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa. He had 
made an ill beginning with Miss Betty herself, sitting beside her churl- 
ishly tongue-tied until she had been driven to conclude that he could 
not speak English. He had followed up this gaucherie by forgetting 
her very existence that first day on shipboard, when time came to go 
to dinner ; and to-day he had ruthlessly disappointed her when, with 
the simple confidence of a child, she had thought he would take her 
ashore. He was overwhelmed with impatience at himself. He felt 
that it would have been far easier to get on with the girl in the per- 
plexities that now confronted him but for the series of blunders on 
his part which must have put him hopelessly out of her favor. She 
would resent his interference, so far as Hazelton was concerned, as 
officious impertinence. And then she was so young, so innocent, so 
ill equipped to understand the danger she was courting. He felt his 
cheeks burn at thought of poisoning her pure mind with hint of evil; 
and yet well-nigh impossible it appeared to him that he, in whose 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


25 


hands her brother had trustingly placed her, should stand inertly look- 
ing on while, in girlish ignorance, she jeopardized her fair name by 
association with such a one as Dick Hazelton. He knew so well the 
sort of gossip-peddling, fraught with envy, hatred, malice, and all un- 
charitableness, that went on out of the empty life on shipboard. It 
was equally disquieting whether he looked backward or forward ; and 
he could only “swear a prayer or two” at the fates in whose hands 
he felt so helpless. Another moment he sought to reassure himself by 
the cold reflection that no doubt he magnified his office. Why should 
he trouble himself with uncalled-for protests or regrets about the 
child’s choice of friends? It seemed hardly possible that she could 
have remained at the Isthmus for a month and have come away in 
ignorance of Dick Hazelton’s unsavory reputation. Her woman’s in- 
stinct should warn her what risk she took ; and surely she was old 
enough to know *w hat mischief evil tongues might make out of such 
association. 

“We have taken on board some two thousand sacks,” the captain 
observed, coming up to where Rupert sat lost in brooding thought. 
“ One hundred and thirty-two tons, to be exact.” 

“ I wonder if there would be any use in trying to hire him to stop 
off here till the next steamer,” returned Rupert, musingly, looking up 
with knitted brows. 

“ Who?” blurted the astonished officer, startled at such irrelevancy. 
“ I’m talking about coffee.” 

“ And I’m talking about that ass Hazelton,” was the testy retort. 
“ I would give a thousand dollars to be clear of him.” 

“ Great heavens, man !” with a stare and a grin that together con- 
veyed an impression far from complimentary. “ If that is the way 
you feel about it, I should say that it would save you considerable 
money and trouble to stop off yourself.” 

“ No doubt about that ; only” — with a sardonic smile — “ I prom- 
ised Malcolm to look after his sister, you know.” 

“ Yes, I know,” dryly, “ and it is beginning to dawn upon me, 
old man, that before you get through with it you may need a little 
looking after yourself. Tell you what, Rupert, take my advice and 
go slow ! Don’t get rattled in looking after the girl. You are like 
me, — too old to dance, and too young to marry, and don’t you forget it ! 
You have not reached years of discretion in such matters ; in fact, few 
men ever do. Take it easy, my boy ; or, if you can’t be easy, be as 
easy as you can. Meanwhile, come over to my room and try a cock- 
tail.” 


V. 

Another yesterday was added to the tale of dead days, leaving some 
the poorer for loss of joy, and many the richer for the sorrows merci- 
fully borne away on the shadowy wings ; and now to-day, in gentlest 
mood, was lavishly doing all it might to ease the burdens of men ; in 
caresses of sunshine and soft lulling breezes bidding weary hearts look 
up and rejoice, to make the most of the fair time which was theirs, 


26 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


nor take thought what woes might wait in the phantom grasp of the 
morrow. 

Smiling back under the sky’s gentle guise, the measureless ex- 
panse of waters lay still, a warm hazy glitter of blue and gold. Now 
and again the tranquil surface was stirred with a languorous swell, 
soft as the sigh of content that moves the bosom of a drowsy babe 
sinking to warm slumber beneath the bending heaven of a mother’s 
eyes. Rudely intrusive on the Sabbath stillness sounded the ship’s 
sturdy progress, as it groaned and strained and panted on its toiling 
way. 

Dwight Rupert had begun the day with unflinching determination 
to do his whole duty by Betty Malcolm, as he understood it. He 
would stay by her as her shadow, with unwearying pertinacity inter- 
posing his broad shoulders against whatever advances Dick Hazelton 
might venture. And, as they became more friencWy, he would find 
opportunity to drop some small hints into the girl’s innocent ear which 
might cause her to beware of that too fascinating reprobate. But Fate 
stands ever mocking at the best-planned schemes of men. It was a 
little widow, with a sociability not to be rebuffed, who, unexpectedly 
thrusting herself into the play, ruthlessly turned to naught all Rupert’s 
carefully-prepared programme. Mrs. Alton, finding Betty comfortably 
ensconced on deck, Rupert watchfully assuming to read beside her, 
had imagined no reason why she should not amiably draw up for her- 
self a chair alongside, thereby giving encouragement to Dick Hazelton, 
who had been uncertainly loitering near, presently to attach himself to 
the party also. A person may hesitate, uninvited, to break up a duet 
by making the proverbial crowd ; but a trio only invites accessions. 

“ The more the merrier,” cried Mrs. Alton, with a jolly little air 
of hospitality which made her accursed in Rupert’s mind, as Dick 
Hazelton paused uncertainly beside her chair. And presently, before 
Rupert, glowering at the book closed over his forefinger, had fairly had 
time to realize his defeat, Betty had smilingly accepted a proposition 
to walk, and was up and away with her hand on Dick Hazelton’s arm. 

Mrs. Alton, blissfully unconscious how ill she had succeeded in 
making herself welcome, was by no means ill pleased to be left ttte-a-tMe 
with the San Francisco coffee-dealer whom the gossip of the ship 
accounted a millionaire. The lady was at the heavily-jetted and much- 
beribboned period of her mourning, when, as she confidentially con- 
fessed to a favored few, her widowed condition had become a grievous 
trial in its woful loneliness. Under the inspiration of sympathy, in- 
deed, she might delicately imply that it appeared quite possible that 
she might even marry another some day, if she met the right one. 
There were those, with smiles not altogether charitable, to say that the 
little widow seemed to be engaged in most anxious and determined 
search to discover that right one ; and it even came to be whispered on 
board the Southern Cross that in the person of Dwight Rupert ap- 
parently she imagined she had found him. 

“ Mr. Hazelton is so odd,” remarked the lady now as they were left 
alone, comfortably settling back in her chair. 

“How so?” he brusquely returned, tormented with irrational 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER 


27 


longing to bid the woman go wash her face. Mrs. Alton was a victim 
of that commonest delusion of weak-minded womanhood, that all the 
world was as amiably willing to be hood- 
winked in respect to her charms as she her- 
self, and in blind effort to show a complex- 
ion lily fair but pathetically called attention 
to her deficiencies by an abuse of cosmetics 
that, to the average man, could 
not but nullify all other efforts 
to please. 

“ Why, he told me that he had 
been at Panama nearly a year ; and 
— I am always looking about for 
information, you know. I make 
acquaintances right and left ; and 
I ask questions of everybody,” 
with her shrill little laugh that 
grated on Rupert’s nerves like a 
creaking door. 

“I don’t doubt it,” he dryly 
returned, his glance following 
Betty as she walked. 

“ Yes,” complacently. “ I 
think that is what people travel 
for, — to gain information in a 
general way : don’t you think so, 

Mr. Rupert?” 

“I cannot imagine what 
on earth the majority have 
in view when they travel,” 
he impatiently retorted. “ A 
few go because they hs 
I suppose ; a few more just mbs. alton. 

to say they have travelled; 

but there is a tremendous number who put me in mind of that party 
described in the book of Job, who put in his time ‘going to and fro 
in the earth, and walking up and down in it,’ simply to make trouble 
for other folks.” 

“No doubt about it,” the lady amiably agreed, but with an 
uncertain smile and a vaguely unsettled air. “ But what was I 
saying? — oh, yes, — about Mr. Hazelton. Well, do you know, I 
asked him what had made the strongest impression upon him at 
Panama, — what had interested him most ; and what do you think he 
said ?” 

“I cannot imagine; but I will bet what you like that he did not 
tell the truth about it,” with a grim smile. 

“ Well, I don’t know : he said — himself.” 

“Oh, I take it all back, then. That was unquestionably true.” 
There was no mistaking his tone. 

“ I am afraid that you do not fancy Mr. Hazelton,” her smile 



28 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


gently insinuating, while, with swift feminine intuition, she inly ques- 
tioned if it could be jealousy that ailed him. 

“ I certainly do not, Mrs. Alton,” with a heartiness which told 
that he was glad of the opportunity thus to free his mind. Strange, 
he reflected, how much easier he found it to express himself frankly to 
this woman, for whom he did not care a flip of his finger, than to that 
child yonder, for whom he was so uncomfortably concerned ! 

“ Why, to be candid, Mr. Rupert, I do not much fancy him my- 
self. I hardly know why,” pausing pensively, with an appealing 
glance at Rupert as if she thought perhaps he might make the reason 
clear to her. “ It is simply a woman’s instinct. I feel, somehow, 
that there is something wrong about him.” 

At last it had been granted the little woman to play a trump card 
in the game she had at heart. Rupert, who could never have dreamt 
that he might find her as sympathetically compliant in whatever opin- 
ion it might please him to offer, regarded her with sudden warm 
approval. He felt a certain compunction that he had not sooner 
perceived how much good sense was disguised under the foolish painted 
face, her inane laugh and chattering way. 

“ It is an instinct that does you good service,” he said, with a cer- 
tain grave cordiality. “ I wish that all women were equally keen to 
perceive that a man of the Hazelton stripe is not deserving of their 
favor or friendship.” 

“ Is he so bad as that?” in a pleased and exhilarated manner. “ I 
suppose you know no end of tales of dreadful things that he has done,” 
in a tone which implied she would not mind listening to a recital of 
the offences herself, even though it might involve details to a certain 
extent embarrassing. 

“ I know a few things that he has done ; but I would rather be 
excused from telling them,” with an acrimony that surprised himself. 
It was far from his custom to talk to the discredit of any man. “ He 
is rather a good .fellow in his way,” he hastily added, in something 
like compunction, — “ that is, as a good fellow goes among men; 
but ” breaking off helplessly. 

“He looks as if he had had bread-and-milk for his supper and 
gone to bed at sundown every night of his life,” remarked Mrs. Alton, 
tentatively. 

“ I am afraid you would be a victim of misplaced confidence if you 
thought it,” with a grin for the incongruity of the idea. 

“ There is such an air of cherubic innocence about him. He looks 
so — harmless,” with a deprecatory sigh. 

Rupert laughed outright, but with a sardonic note in his mirth. 
“ I begin to think that your instinctive prejudice is not altogether un- 
compromising,” he observed, grimly, craning his neck to see where 
Betty and Hazelton were loitering. 

“ And am I more indulgent than you, seeing that you allow Miss 
Malcolm to go about with him?” with some asperity. 

“ I allow ! do you think that Miss Malcolm has done me the honor 
to ask my advice in the matter?” with a short, mirthless laugh. “If 
she did Why, see here, Mrs. Alton,” brightening with a sudden 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


29 

inspiration, “ I am half inclined to ask a favor of you in that connec- 
tion.” 

“Yes?” in a tone of pleased acquiescence. 

“You are a woman of the world; you have had experience; in- 
stinctively you divined something of the kind of fellow that Hazelton 
is,” hesitating, with knitted brows. 

“ Yes,” encouragingly. 

“ And if you would drop that child a hint,” almost pleadingly, 
“it would be so kind.” 

“I, Mr. Rupert?” with surprised demurring, rather dubiously re- 
garding Betty as she passed along the other side of the deck. With all 



“AND IF YOU WOULD DROP THAT CHILD A HINT.” 


her sweet amiability, there was an intangible something about the girl 
that did not encourage interference in her affairs. “ What could I 
say? I really know nothing about the man ; and I am afraid that my 
personal prejudice would count for little against a young girl’s fancy.” 

“ But it is not so serious as that,” a sort of smothered vehemence 
in his protest. “She cannot be seriously interested in the fellow so 
soon as this.” 

“No? don’t you think so?” with a smile for which he someway 
felt he hated her. “You don’t believe in love at first sight, then? 
But he is rather a taking fellow in his way, we must admit that. No 
wolf in sheep’s clothing ever went about in wool better calculated to 
please a girl’s fancy.” 

“ There does seem a wonderful sort of fascination about the fellow 


30 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


where women are concerned,” almost with a groan. “And that is 
why I thought it might be well to speak to Migs Malcolm about him.” 

“ But why do you not speak to her yourself?” softly insinuated the 
lady. 

" I had meant to,” dejectedly ; “ but it is so hard to know what to 
say. It would come so much better from a woman, I am sure ; and 
with your tact ” he diplomatically urged. 

“ Why, thanks, Mr. Rupert,” with a pleased explosion of that 
cackling little laugh which Rupert felt sure was precisely the sound 
that King Solomon had in mind when he likened it to the crackling 
of thorns under a pot. “ And of course I shall be delighted to say 
anything I can, since you wish it,” with almost an accent of tenderness. 
“ I will go and abuse Mr. Hazel ton with all my heart ; and you may 
offer up prayers for the success of my mission, if you like. I think it 
will need them to make the thing a success ; for I am rather persuaded 
that it will be something like carrying coals to Newcastle.” 

“ How so ?” 

“ Don’t you suppose that forty people have been to Miss Malcolm 
already retailing all Mr. Hazelton’s sins of omission and commission ? 
There are generally plenty of volunteers for that sort of W'ork. I have 
no doubt that Miss Malcolm could tell me all about him,” somewhat 
viciously, being, in fact, considerably disappointed that she was denied 
the tidbits of scandal she was assured might be so interesting. 

“ I doubt it,” very decidedly. 

“ She has been staying at Panama, where he is well known,” sig- 
nificantly. 

“ Yes ; but all the same she cannot know, — or comprehend,” almost 
despairingly. 

And, in fact, Betty Malcolm knew considerably less of Dick Hazel- 
ton than might have been inferred from the circumstances. She had 
met him in the most casual way but once or twice at Panama ; and 
Bruce Malcolm was not one to poison his sister’s ears with scandalous 
tales of any man without very good cause. In a general way she knew 
that Hazelton had been reckoned fast; but this appeared the less 
shocking as heard in a community where the same charge was alleged 
against the majority, as it seemed. And she had heard that he was 
in love with Mrs. Grant of Panama ; but of this, which at worst could 
convey no more to Betty’s simple mind than a page of unhappy 
romance, she was fairly incredulous, for the purely feminine reason that 
Mrs. Grant was, in her eyes, both ugly and old. It seemed impossible 
that Dick Hazelton, with his blond viking beauty, “as stout and 
proud as he were lord of all,” should be breaking his heart for such 
a one as this. And it happened that he fell to explaining that very 
matter, as they walked the deck that afternoon, in a way that gave 
Betty a pleased sense of her keenness of penetration, as well as flattered 
pride in his confidence. 

It was one of the secrets of Dick Hazelton’s success with women 
that he had a way of confiding to each in turn, always bemoaning his 
wasted life, confessing a choice list of shortcomings in most touching 
repentance, glossing over the others with a fine tact that represented 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


31 


him as always more sinned against than sinning, and always ending 
with begging advice, his soft blue eyes entreatingly uplifted with a 
tender confidence that thrilled each listener’s heart in turn with the 
interesting conviction that into her hands alone was given the work of 
saving that fascinating soul. 

He talked pathetically now to Betty of his life at Panama. It had 
been a year thrown away, he sadly owned. He had been no worse 
than the rest, perhaps: it seemed a part of the climatic effect, the 
subtle demoralizing influence that ruled the place, to pull down a man’s 
moral nature and destroy all his high ideals. There was something in 
the lack of home influences, perhaps, — the sensation of being in exile, 
— that made a man reckless. She could scarce comprehend, he fancied, 
how demoralizing it was to feel one’s self in the predicament of that 
fellow in the nursery rhyme of whom the children are told that “ how 
he lives, and how he fares, nobody knows and nobody cares.” 

“ But nobody is really so unfortunate as that,” cried Betty, warmly, 
her eyes growing misty as she thought of the brother left to wrestle 
alone with all the intangible temptations of that dreadful place, the 
more appalling to her fancy because so dimly understood. “ Every- 
body has somebody who cares for him, — whose happinesss is concerned 
in his actions and well-being.” 

“ Everybody else, perhaps,” with gentle pathos, looking out over 
the waste of waters with a wide unseeing gaze that seemed contem- 
plating a life as bare and desolate. “ I am the exception to prove the 
rule in that respect, I think.” 

“ Ah, but you are unjust to yourself and your friends,” warmly. 

“ I am sure there are many who care for you.” 

“ It is very sweet of you to say so ; but you could not name them,” 
shaking his head sadly. “ There may be two or three in the world 
who might shed a tear for me if I dropped out of it, — my mother, and 
perhaps my sisters, — and there are a few who are friendly when we 
happen to meet ; but not one of them but thinks me a pretty hard case. 

I have not the faculty of putting the best foot foremost ; and you know 
the old Spanish proverb: ‘He that hath a bad name is half hanged 
already.’ It is my own fault, perhaps, if people misunderstand me, — 
if they put the worst construction upon everything I do; but it comes 
hard sometimes.” 

“But I am certain it is you who misunderstand other people,” 
urged Betty, warmly. “You are morbid, Mr. Hazelton ; and, as I 
said before, it makes you unfair to your friends as well as yourself.” 

“ Do you think so ? — how kind it is of you !” with a faint pressure 
upon the little hand within his arm. “But go and ask the people of 
Panama about me and see how few will find anything kind to say; and 
yet there are many there to whom I have been friendly, and some to 
whom I have had occasion to play the part of a friend in need. But I 
am rather like that fellow, whom some writer tells about, who was so 
universally civil that nobody thanked him for it. I am full of the . 
best intentions; but nobody thanks me, and everybody takes occasion 
to misunderstand me at every opportunity.” 

“ Oh, no !” murmured Betty, her eyes aglow with tender sympathy. 


32 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


“ Ah, yes !” with a smile sad as tears. There could be no question 
but that Dick Hazelton exquisitely enjoyed the sentimental poses with 
which he was wont to play upon susceptible heart-strings. It may 
well have been that the utter incongruity of his attitude tickled his 
sense of humor as much as the responsive sympathy flattered his 
vanity. “ Take the case of the Grants of Panama, for instance, — 
did you meet them, by the way ?” a flicker of inward laughter just 
stirring the ends of his golden moustache as Betty’s eyes dropped con- 
sciously and he guessed the reason. It but added a fresh fillip of inter- 
est to the conversation for him. With all the keen interest of a skilled 
lawyer in a difficult case, he was ever ready to cope with the charges 
of evil that were forever rising against him ; and certainly not the least 
satisfying element of his lawless pleasures was the measure of success 
that attended his efforts to clear himself of the consequences. It is to 
be questioned if, in their hearts, the majority of men have not a live- 
lier joy in esteeming themselves sharp and clever than they could ever 
discover in all the gift of righteousness. 

“ I met them only once, — at the Leverichs’ party,” looking away 
with studied indifference. “ Mrs. Grant has — ” hesitating in amiable 
effort to think of something complimentary to say of the lady whose 
name had been so intimately linked with his — “ that is, — she dresses 
very well.” 

“You damn her with faint praise,” with an indulgent, almost 
caressing, note in his laugh ; “ but you do not know her. She does a 
great many things very well, with all-round talents of a very charm- 
ing kind. I thought a great deal of her, — as I do still, for that 
matter, having that fatal gift of constancy most unfortunately well 
developed. She disappointed me at the last, as most people do,” with 
his pathetic sigh, his gentle eyes, with their misleading air of frank- 
ness, studying her face, questioning how much she had heard, — how 
far his explanations need go. “ But one cannot outgrow the habit of 
liking people all at once; at least I cannot. And I thought so much 
of the Grants ! Yet even there my attitude was cruelly misconstrued. 
When I saw him going to the dogs hand over fist, and stuck to him 
like a brother, trying as best I could to hold him back a little, my 
friends ” — with a bitter sneer — “ all began remarking to one another 
that I was leading the poor fellow on to drink harder than ever! 
And when I tried to be a little kind to Mrs. Grant, they said — well, I 
don’t want to tell you what they said, but it was very cruel.” Betty’s 
eyes fell guiltily beneath the righteous indignation of his glance. 

“ But if you knew you were right,” she faintly urged. 

“That is all well enough as far as it goes; but one would some- 
times like a little justice from other people. I snap my fingers and 
say I don’t care what the world says of me, but of a sudden something 
fetches me up short with the consciousness that I do care horribly. 
Now, for instance, I cannot help knowing that you are prejudiced 
against me from the talk you have heard ; and I don’t like it.” 

“ Oh, no,” she hurriedly protested. 

“ Oh, yes,” he retorted, with a sort of sad playfulness. “ And it 
comes hard, Miss Malcolm, for I don’t mind admitting that I am 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


33 


awfully anxious to have you think well of me,” with that daring 
glance of tender appeal that had stirred many a gentle heart to quicker 
beating. “ But one thing I ask,” bending toward her persuasively : 
“give me time. Wait until you really know me, and then judge/ me 
for yourself. You can know me, if you will, better than any of them : 
— won’t you ? and, until you do, will you not take me a little bit on 
trust? Will you not be as kind to me as you can until you under- 
stand me well enough to do me justice?” 

“ I had not thought of being unkind,” murmured Betty, evasively, 
plaiting her handkerchief in a pretty confusion. 

“ Not to be unkind : that is a mere negative concession ; and I 
want so much !” he swiftly retorted, with a sort of repressed vehe- 
mence. “ But everything seems against me ! Even if you are disposed 
to be sweet and kind yourself, — as I almost think you are, — I cannot 
help knowing that Rupert stands ready to say what he can to turn you 
against me. And I had supposed that he was rather a friend of mine, 
too,” with a fine show of scorn ; “ but now, someway, I know that he 
has gone over to the majority ! Of course I can guess now what has 
caused the sudden change,” he added, after a moment’s pause, flashing 
a glance of bold meaning into the brown eyes inquiringly uplifted : 
“ in a way, I don’t blame him,” his voice dropping to a softer key as 
he daringly added, “ to tell the truth, I am a bit jealous of him /” 

“ But this is all nonsense !” the girl hastily protested, blushing 
rosily. “ Mr. Rupert has never said a word in disparagement of you.” 

“ Has he not ?” showing his even white teeth in his fine frank 
smile now touched with appealing sadness. There was a sort of se- 
raphic sweetness about that smile of Hick Hazelton’s, a look of evan- 
gelical purity in his meek blue eyes, when he chose to assume the ex- 
pression, that might deceive the very elect. “ But, if he should, will 
you promise to believe that I am not quite so black as I am painted ?” 

“ Oh, yes,” with a light laugh. “ I will believe it is a regular case 
of painting the lily, if you like.” 

“Well, I don’t exactly pose as a lily,” laughing himself, “ but I 
want you to think well of me.” 

“And it appears to be quite out of the question that I should not 
think about you at all,” with a saucy smile. 

“Quite,” very decidedly. “I intend to thrust myself upon your 
attention to such an extent that you will be forced to think of me 
whether you like or not. I would rather be hated than ignored. 
But,” with a smile of tender confidence, “ I shall not let you hate me.” 

“ Are you so sure?” lifting her eyebrows mockingly. 

“Sure? no,” with a sudden gloom that sat upon his pale blond 
beauty as becomingly as his moods of sunshine. “ I am only sure of 
one thing; and that is — shall I tell you?” bending his handsome head 
until his moustache almost grazed her cheek, a blue fire of passion in 
his eyes. 

“ And I am only sure of one thing ; and that is that I am as 
hungry as a shark,” with a laugh of gay insouciance ignoring the 
question. “ Is it not almost time for lunch ?” 

“ Ten minutes of it,” reluctantly, looking at his watch. “ Must 
Vol. LI.— 3 


34 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


you go back to Rupert?” dissuasively, as she started up murmuring 
something to that effect. They had been sitting on the little divan 
that ran along the stern side of Social Hall, which, for a wonder in 
that crowded ship, they had had quite to themselves. “ Why won’t 
you wait until he comes to look you up?” 

“ Because,” with a laugh, “ I have a premonition that he would 
never come.” 

“ Then, in heaven’s name, let him stay away !” with languid con- 
tempt. “ Why need we bother about him?” 

“ Why, you need not, most certainly,” a gleam of wickedness in 
the laughing depths of her eyes ; “ but if I happen to like it ” 

“ Oh, if you like it — of course. ' Rim ne va plus /” rather sulkily, 
rising and offering his arm. “ I said that I was jealous,” he added 
softly in her averted ear, as they passed out of the door ; but Betty 
affected not to hear. 


VI. 

Warned by his experience at Punta Arenas, Rupert had made it 
a point to speak of their going ashore at the next port as a matter of 
course; and when Betty smilingly reminded him of his hasty admis- 
sion that he never set foot in these places where he could possibly help 
it, protesting that he must not sacrifice himself on her account, he had 
even the grace to lie valiantly, declaring that at La Libertad he had 
business to call him ashore. 

A strong breeze was driving the clouds, like a flock of clean-washed 
sheep, across the pale-blue field of the sky, and the ship was rolling 
on a long, heavy swell, as she came to anchor in the open roadstead off 
the little port. The accommodation-ladder was not lowered from the 
ship’s side at all. The trio of disconsolate passengers who came out 
from the shore, a couple of tawny, scantily-clothed women, and a man 
of the ideal brigand type sweltering under the folds of a striped serape , 
were ignominiously hustled on board along with the freight that came 
with them in the great lurching lighter ; and the few who listlessly 
loitered about the decks, as they looked across the surging waters at 
the little huddle of buildings dwarfed to puny insignificance against 
the grand background of shadowy blues and pinks and grays clothing 
the rugged heights of old San Vicente and San Miguel, evinced no 
smallest desire to tread the soil of Salvador. Small craft, fair-weather 
idlers, cared not to venture forth in such a sea, and the ship was left 
alone save for that one lighter, whose crew was performing miracles in 
the transfer of its quota of freight, while another sturdy consort could 
be seen approaching, laden to the gunwale with plump little sacks of 
coffee. As if in mad joy to find themselves free of the swarm of 
small craft that on some days speckled the bright surface like a swarm 
of gad-flies, the great waves plunged heavily shoreward, climbing one 
another’s shoulders, lashing each other on to crazier effort, as if thev 
would raze the poor little place from off the earth ; roaring in sullen 
rage as they beat their strength upon the shifting sand, but to be drawn 
helplessly back again by the mighty power that swayed them. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


35 


Betty, who had resigned herself to staying on board as a matter of 
course, was all the more surprised and delighted when Rupert came to 
tell her that they still might go. She was full of girlish delight in 
novelty, with an eager curiosity to see all that the hour might be hold- 
ing out to her ; and moreover the unaccustomed rolling had contributed 
to a growing discomfort that made the prospect of feeling solid earth 
beneath her feet seem of all things the most to be desired. 

“ I am afraid that you will find it a little rough,” Rupert observed 
deprecatingly, as he led the way below. “ If it had been smooth we 
might have had the captain’s gig.” 

“ Oh, I don’t mind that in the least,” Betty stoutly declared. But 
she was to discover that she did mind it when she had finally come to 
the open freight port through which they must go, and surveyed the 
rude waves thrusting their might between the ship and that lighter 
bobbing alongside. As the two had for an instant bumped greeting, 
Rupert had quickly jumped, landing ignominiously on all-fours on the 
uneven footing of bales and boxes in the lighter ; and now he stood 
holding up his arms to catch her when her opportunity should come. 
But Betty hung back, limp and helpless, in nervous terror whimpering 
a protest which wind and waves united to snatch from the ears for 
which it was meant. But the hands of the sturdy first officer fell upon 
her with business-like imperturbability. What to him was a pretty 
girl with her nervous whims save one more passenger sent by an 
inscrutable Providence to make more trouble for the officers of the 
Pacific Mail Steam-Ship Company? He caught Betty up and tossed 
her down to the waiting arms alongside as lightly as if she had been a 
sack of coffee ; and he would have been glad if he could as easily have 
disposed of all the womankind on board. 

“It is only the first step that costs. All the rest is plain sailing, 
you see,” said Rupert, cheerily, trying to make her comfortable in the 
stern of the rough craft. 

“ Oh, yes,” with an uncertain, white-lipped smile, casting an ap- 
prehensive glance around. “ Only, you know ” 

“You agree with Emerson, perhaps, that the sea-taste is acquired, 
like that for tomatoes and olives ; and your taste is not cultivated in 
that direction up to the point of appreciating life on the ocean wave in 
a craft like this,” he comfortably observed. “ Have you noticed this 
boat, by the way ? — that it is carved out of one enormous log, all in 
one piece? It is like a sort of Brobdingnagiau banana-skin.” 

“ Yes,” murmured Betty, vaguely, grown very white. She had 
imagined the sea rough from the decks of the Southern Cross, but now 
she felt that she had really known nothing about it until this. Every- 
thing that was within her small sickened body seemed sinking down, 
down, a nausea unutterable creeping after, as the great clumsy boat 
went wriggling down the mountain of waters, as if it would never 
stop short of the bottom of the sea, but to fetch up short with a jerk 
that was a fresh grievance, ere it started to climb the next glittering 
hill, whose sullen height the scantily-clothed boatmen were impertur- 
bably attacking with their preposterous paddles. But one other pas- 
senger kept them company, a young Englishman, his beefy and other- 


36 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


wise good-humored face distorted with a morose scowl due to the effort 
to keep his glass properly fixed on one eye. Beyond a mumbled drawl 
to the effect that it was “ rawther rough,” this young man had nothing 
to say, appearing absorbed in regarding with a ruminating stare this 
strange young woman who was composedly facing the world unattended 
by either chaperon or maid. Betty, sitting with white, compressed 
lips, felt that if she must be reduced to the last humiliating abandon 
of sea-sickness under the battery of that round unwinking gaze, she 
must simply pray for death. 

“ One gets a new idea of the courage of those Spanish pirates who 
first explored the coast, with the sea like this, — don’t you think ?” 
queried Rupert, with laughing eyes, after a comprehensive glance at 
Betty, quietly returning his unlighted cigar to its case, and the case to 
his pocket. His theories as to sea-sickness rather foreshadowed the 
mind-cure doctrines of a later date ; and he was bent on diverting her 
attention from herself. “ One old fellow, Andreas de Nino was his 
name, I always like to read about,” he went on ; “ he worshipped God 
and Mammon with such na'ive simplicity and high-handed success. He 
had a little way of landing here and there and sending word to the 
native chiefs that unless they and all their people at once embraced the 
faith of Jesus Christ and handed over their idols, — which happened to 
be made of the purest native gold, you understand, — incidentally, as it 
were, owning allegiance to the King of Spain, they should be attacked 
and forthwith wiped from off the face of earth. With that persuasive 
manner of his, his missionary success was simply prodigious, his bap- 
tisms footing up to thousands a day upon occasion. One is rather 
filled with ungodly wonder as to how he managed it, — if he was com- 
pelled to round them up and drive them all into the sea in a bunch. 
However, he was a man of large resources, and the good work went 
on somehow ; while at the same time, you comprehend, he was laying 
up for himself treasure upon earth, in a miscellaneous lot of golden 
bric-£t-brac, which must have been eminently gratifying to his righteous 
soul.” 

“Yes,” without exhibiting the remotest interest in the missionary 
labors of Andreas de Nino. But Rupert was not to be discouraged. 

“ One rather wishes, reading the adventures of the pious old frand, 
that a nice lively earthquake might have been moved to get in its work 
just when he happened along at some of these places where they make 
a specialty of earthquakes,” he cheerfully observed. 

“ Are you sure that they are not getting up one for us?” something 
like whimsical amusement upon her face as her eyes dizzily ranged 
over the land ahead. “ The place looks to me horribly unsteady, don’t 
you know. It reminds me of that verse of the Psalms: ‘What 
aileth thee, O thou sea, that thou fleddest ? — ye mountains, that ye 
skipped like rams, and ye little hills like lambs?”’ 

Rupert laughed, boyishly pleased at having induced her to 
talk. “ How well you said it!” he exclaimed, with smiling approval. 
“Did your father promise you a gun if you would read the Bible 
through ?” 

“ Mercy ! no ! What a question !” considerably surprised. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


37 


“Well, my father did; but,” heaving a large sigh, “I never got 
the gun.” 

“ I might be sure of it,” with something like the ghost of her 
every-day laugh, whereat Rupert beamed, delighted : Betty was forget- 
ting to be sea-sick. 

But on and on, climbing, pushing, beating its way ever forward 
somehow, the sturdy craft had crawled shoreward, until at last it was 
safely alongside the great iron pier. But here was a fresh shock of 
surprise for unhappy Betty as her dizzy eyes were raised to see the 
strange vehicle that came rattling down to receive them, from what 
seemed an appalling distance above. It seemed to be simply four 
wooden arm-chairs fastened back to back, in pairs, the smooth seats 
appearing as if especially calculated to spill unwary passengers into the 
yawning depths below at the smallest untoward movement. There 
had been nothing in the landing at Punta Arenas to prepare her for 
this. 

“ Oh, what on earth possessed me to come !” she miserably groaned, 
turning up to Rupert a white appealing face as he lifted her into one 
of the swaying seats and placed himself beside her. 

“ Don’t be frightened, child,” laying his hand over hers with a 
close reassuring pressure that surprised her into silence. “ It is not 
half so bad as being hung, you see,” as they went swaying upward 
until, with a somewhat startling jerk, they were drawn upon the pier. 

“ Thank heaven, it is over !” cried the girl, giving her skirts a 
little shake, and feeling over hat and hair with swift feminine pats, as 
though to assure herself that she was still clothed and in her right 
mind. 

“ And, thank heaven, we are clear of that crowd of people for a 
while !” with no less fervor, glancing back at the ship with a grin 
almost vindictive. In his mind’s eye he could see Dick Hazelton dis- 
consolately leaning over the ship’s side, measuring with baffled glances 
the stretch of waters that had been put between him and Betty Mal- 
colm ; and the thought was unction to Rupert’s soul. In the complex 
mystery of man’s nature there is a subtle unreasoning force that in- 
stinctively turns him more or less against his fellows in respect to the 
woman who may have touched his own heart, if but ever so little. 
Rupert, who had felt impelled to assume the defensive against Dick 
Hazelton from a sense of duty toward his charge, had come to find a 
sort of savage joy in the contest for its own sake, as man against man. 
And, at the same time, his feeling toward Betty herself had been in- 
sensibly changing in the jealous sense of possession that, in the heat of 
the strife, had somehow seized upon him. 

“ But to think that in a little while we will have to go back !— have 
that dreadful trip over again ! Do you know, I can feel the motion of 
that horrible boat yet?” with a tremulous smile. “ The ground is all 
rolling under my feet; and if I close my eyes I can feel that awful 
wabbling, — that horrible sinking, — as if the land were all as unreal as 
a dream.” 

“ Poor little girl !” with quick concern almost bordering on tender- 
ness. She seemed such a fragile little thing, so fair and so helpless. 


38 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


“I feel that I was a brute to have brought you,” he ruefully de- 
clared. 

“ Oh, don’t say that !” her smile full of winning sweetness. “ I 
was dying to come; and it was lovely of you.” 

“How lovely of you to say so!” he laughingly exclaimed, irre- 
pressible joyousness in his face. He was full of boyish triumph in the 
success of this stroke against Hazelton. Rarely had he felt in such 
gay spirits. “ And — I have an inspiration ! — we won’t go back at all 
if you say so. What do you think of staying on and growing up 
with the country ?” 

“ But the country has so much the start of us,” Betty smilingly 
objected, enjoying his mood. “ It has already grown old.” 



WHAT DO YOU THINK OP STAYING ON AND GROWING UP WITH THE COUNTRY ?” 


“ Ah, it is like me,” he lightly retorted : “ it was never young. 
But perhaps if we stayed — quien sabef — the usual order of things 
might be reversed, and I might grow young with the country. It 
seems very possible just now, I assure you.” 

“Ah, it would always be possible,” she oracularly declared, feeling 

herself wondrously at ease with him ; “you would always be young, 

if you would only let yourself go.” 

“ How encouraging ! and how kind of you to say it ! But do you 
really think that it would be wise, Betty ?” laughingly bending down 
to look under the brim of her wide hat. He hardly knew himself 
with this spirit of jollity that had taken hold of him. He vaguely 
felt that he was playing a part ; but he enjoyed it. “ Because, do you 
know, in my present mood, if I should really let myself go, as you 
suggest, I am afraid I should never know where to stop.” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


39 


An hour of the burning day had mercifully slipped away into the 
shadows of the past, and now its discomforts were almost forgotten 
in the fiercer fires of the noontime. It was the hour when, according 
to a local saying, only dogs, mozos, and Americanos were to be seen upon 
the streets. All the market-folk had gathered up their unsold wares and 
contentedly straggled away to swelter through the long afternoon in luxu- 
rious siesta ; and the bare, hot streets were all as still as Pompeii after 
the eruption. Rupert and Betty, somewhat touched with the drowsy 
languor of the place, were resting in a great, dimly-lighted sala belonging 
to Rupert’s agent at the place, — a man’s parlor, lacking all the little 
feminine touches that give to bare rooms the look of home, but pleasant 
withal after the burning heat outside. They had exhaustively patron- 
ized the scantily-equipped market-stands huddled together in the sun- 
baked plaza; they had loitered in the shade of the bare little church, 
its altars cluttered with the tawdry ornamentation of a childish and 
poverty-stricken people, ridiculous but for the simple faith that made it 
all pathetic; they had furtively stared, with laughing criticism, at the 
queer costumes of the market-women, decorously assuming not to see 
the happy youngsters who flitted into the foreground of the scene 
quite au naturel; they had determinedly blinked at all that was to be 
seen in the little place, unanimously agreed that it only differed from 
any other tropical town of its size in that it was a little more bare and 
unbearable in its white hot glare of untempered sunshine than any. 

“ You were horribly extravagant,” Betty remarked, with a smiling 
assumption of reproof, her pleased eyes running over the acquisitions 
of the market-place spread out on a table, — a couple of carved cala- 
bashes, a queer little basket woven of pale-green grasses, a delightfully 
hideous brown pottery water-“ monkey,” and a quantity of fruit and 
flowers. “ I ought not to have let you get so much for me,” with faint 
regret; “but then, don’t you know, it was something like patronizing 
a church fair. Those poor people so needed the money : it gave one 
such a comfortable sense of benevolence to be buying something of 
them, aside from the pleasure of having the things.” 

u A killing of two birds with one stone, as it were,” Rupert lazily 
assented, comfortably swaying back and forth in a large bent-wood 
rocking-chair by the window. 

“ The poor things !” her soft eyes full of tender pity, while from tone 
and glance Rupert was able to apprehend that her thought was with 
the people of the market-place. “ Do you suppose that, in this out-of- 
the-way place, they are able to realize how much they miss? — how 
miserable and discontented they ought to be ?” 

“ Bless your heart, no !” with a slight start, rocking far back to peer 
through the narrow opening in the blinds. He could almost have 
sworn that it was Mrs. Alton’s shrill laugh that had just grated on his 
ears. “ Their ignorance is bliss, I can assure you. Indeed, I never 
look at them without envy,— these poverty-stricken philosophers; for 
of all the sons of men I believe they have come the nearest to solving 
the great problem of human happiness. — H-m ! — I believe I will draw 
this blind just a little closer. The heat is simply intolerable.” It 
was Mrs. Alton’s voice he had heard. There she was, rosy and panting, 


40 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


trotting along at the heels of Dick Hazelton, who nervously strode on, 
glancing in all directions, in palpable search of somebody, while three 
or four others of the ship’s passengers straggled along after them. 

“Juan may not have two reales to rub together,” Rupert placidly 
resumed, “ but that never hinders his being as happy as the proverbial 
sunflower. Tortillas aud frijoles are cheap and plenty ; he gets enough 
to eat, and he does not ask for much to wear; and there is always 
manana ahead to which he relegates every care. For to-day — hace 
mucho color — esta cansada — and he can enjoy his siesta untroubled by 
any nightmare of ambition or discontent. If he worships the almighty 
dollar, it is in a half-hearted way that calls for neither burnt-offerings 
nor sacrifices ; and if the pursuit of happiness is the main purpose of 
life, I think we must concede that he comes out ahead of all of us, 
with our cumbrous civilization and its hampering necessities,” wiping 
the perspiration from his forehead. He felt that he had been fairly 
roaring, in his effort to drown the sound of Mrs. Alton’s piping voice, 
which seemed to him loud enough to wake the dead ; but Betty looked 
comfortably unconscious. 

“ Yes,” she languidly assented, wiping a little yawn from her lips. 
It had been a delightful hour. Never had she dreamt that Rupert 
could so unbend, — could be so companionable and jolly. But the walk 
in the hot sunshine had been exhausting, and the nausea of the morn- 
ing had left a slight headache. 

“ Are you tired, Betty ?” bending toward her with kindly anxiety. 

“That makes three times that you have called me ‘Betty,’” 
the girl irrelevantly retorted, checking off the number on three small 
fingers which were pointed at him with a gesture of smiling reproof. 

“ Why, I beg pardon,” considerably discomfited, yet half smiling 
withal, as, through the chink he had left in the blinds, he watched the 
party from the ship rambling back in the sweltering sunshine with the 
purposeless energy of a lot of ants. “ But you told me to let myself 
go,” he urged, extenuatingly. “ I hope you are not really very much 
vexed that I took your advice so literally ?” 

“Oh, of course I don’t really mind it at all,” with an air of con- 
descending amiability; “but you have such a grand fatherly way of 
doing it, you know. It makes one feel so pitifully young and small.” 

“ Does it ?” with a broad grin. Hazelton and Mrs. Alton had 
stopped in the middle of the plaza, wagging their heads together in an 
anxious discussion that tickled Rupert amazingly as he imagined its 
purport. “Of course I am sorry if you don’t like it; but then, you 
know, you are young, and rather small. The truth must prevail.” 

“ If the truth must prevail, you should not try to pose as my 
grandfather,” with a charming pout. 

“No? — and what then?” flushing with vague pleasure. “ If you 
will direct the pose yourself, I can assure you that I shall be only too 
happy to try and please your little royal highness.” 

“ You can hardly expect me to believe that you are sorry while you 
sit there laughing at me,” eying him severely. 

. “ Laughing — at you ? Perish the thought ! I may have smiled ; 
it is rather a weakness of mine upon occasion, really meaning nothing. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


41 


In fact, ‘ I’m saddest when I sing/ and all that sort of thing, don’t you 
know. But — oh, I say,” irrelevantly, starting up, — Mrs. Alton’s laugh 
sounded in his ears as blatantly penetrating as the note of a bagpipe, — 
“ don’t you want to look out into the patio f — the garden there at the 
back?” 

“ Is there anything to see?” with a faint note of ill humor in her 
voice, indifferently glancing out through the open door, not moving. 

“Well, no; I am afraid not,” with a vexed laugh at the ridiculous 
impulse that had come upon him to snatch her up and carry her. 

“ And it is so comfortable here,” leaning back and rocking with 
lazy enjoyment. “ Do you know, while you are gone, — you said you 
would have to go and talk coffee for a while, did you not? — well, if 
you are gone very long you must not expect to find me awake when 
you come back.” 

“ Oh,” with a vexed start, somewhat piqued at her obvious willing- 
ness to be rid of him, and reluctant just then to go ; but upon such a 
hint he felt there could be no help for it: “I had forgotten all 
about it, but I suppose I would better go and get the thing done with. 
And do you think that you can really get a nap ?” regarding her with 
some anxiety. “ There is not a woman about the place ; nobody will 
disturb you. I w T ish there was a hammock for you.” 

“ Why, thanks ; but it is not of the least consequence,” smiling 
at his solicitude. “Of course I shall not really think of going to 
sleep.” 

“ But I wish you would : it would do you no end of good,” he 
persisted, gging over to the window and relentlessly closing out every 
last ray of sunshine. He felt he could not in common decency propose 
to close the window ; but the voices had for the moment drifted beyond 
earshot. If the child only would drop asleep before they came back. 
“ Do — to please me,” persuasively. 

“ Ah, to please you,” with a mocking smile. “ Of course — any- 
thing to please you !” 

“ And can I go and find a pillow for you ? — they have little pillows 
here, stuffed with wool, but they are not half bad. And won’t you 
have another green cocoanut to drink? — No, really? Well, then, 
hasta luego.” 

“ If I had not sent him away, he would never have gone,” mur- 
mured Betty, with a demure little smile, promptly filling her mouth 
with hair-pins from the fluffy brown knot at the back of her head, 
which, with a wary eye on the open door at the back, she deftly pro- 
ceeded to twist up afresh. The hair readjusted to her satisfaction, she 
settled back in her chair, patiently rocking and waiting, still smiling 
softly to herself. She could not sleep, although she was sleepy; 
and there was no denying that presently the time began to seem long 
in the hot, brooding silence. She elaborately rearranged the bunch of 
flowers at her belt, and daintily feasted on a couple of the fragrant fig 
bananas, scarce longer than one of her own small fingers ; and finally 
she restlessly wandered out into the patio, but it seemed like courting 
sunstroke to linger in those bare, hot confines, where all the heat of the 
surrounding walls seemed focussed. Many a time she had yawned in 


42 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


grievous ennui before Rupert at last came back, stepping softly, half 
hoping to find her asleep. 

“ Ah, you are awake !” he disappointedly exclaimed. “ I hope 
that nothing — no noises outside — disturbed you.” 

“ Did you expect to find me snoring?” with a light laugh, promptly 
adjusting her hat and looking for gloves and parasol. “ I suppose we 
are going now,” alert and smiling. 

“ Why, no ; lam afraid not quite yet,” he deprecatingly returned, 
considerably concerned at the shadow of disappointment that chased 
the sudden brightness from her face. “ The fact is that a man has 
just got in from the interior with whom I ought to have a little talk. 
He is at breakfast now, which, of course, seems a pure waste of time j 
but I could hardly drag him away from the table by main strength, 
you know,” with a glance that seemed entreating her to make the best 
of it. 

“ I suppose not,” her smile somewhat strained. The hot, lifeless 
stillness of the room seemed smothering. 

“We shall get away in an hour or so, at any rate,” cheerfully, con- 
sulting his watch. “ The captain gave us until two o’clock, and we can 
make that without any question, — if you really think that you won’t 
stay to grow up with the country,” regarding her playfully. “ Poor 
child ! I am afraid that it is an awful bore for you,” he added, con- 
tritely. 

“ Oh, not at all,” with polite hypocrisy. “ I like it ; that is ” 

floundering in amiable confusion. 

“You deserve to be canonized,” he laughed. “But, by the way, 
— I had almost forgotten, — I have brought you some curios, — some of 
the old coins, about the queerest currency passing in Christendom to- 
day, I fancy,” drawing a handful of loose silver from his pocket and 
dropping it into her lap. “It is made of old Spanish coins which the 
people have cut up into change to suit themselves, you see.” 

Betty was studying eagerly the quaint irregular bits, no two alike 
in size or shape, some worn smooth and thin as wafers, a few restamped 
with the round seal of San Salvador, others still bearing the time-worn 
arms of old Spain. “ How very interesting ! — and how more than 
kind of you !” she exclaimed, prettily flushed with pleasure. “ And is 
this a peso ? — and does this count for two reales ?” holding up the 
pieces one after the other. 

“ Exactly,” enjoying her delight. “ I knew a fellow once who 
said that all he knew of Spanish was that a quarter of a dollar was 
called Dora Alice, while Sarah Alice went for seventy-five cents.” 

“ The poor man !” laughing absently as she fingered the coins. 
“Well, you have found out that I know more Spanish than that, have 
you not?” 

“ Indeed I have. And, by the way, have you ever forgiven me 
for that?” 

“For what?” regarding the coins with a sudden perplexity, her 
finger pressing in her red under-lip. 

“ For driving you to talk Spanish that first night at dinner, — for 
all my sins of omission.” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


43 


“ Oh, that ! have you repented it ?” 

“ In sackcloth and ashes.” 

“ Well, then, I suppose I must give you absolution,” smiling, but 
with an anxious little frown between her eyes. “ But, do you know,” 
a sudden sweet gravity in her face, “ I think I must not let you give me 
such a present as this, Mr. Rupert. It has just occurred to me that it 
is money, pure and simple, and ever so much of it.” 

“ Nothing but a handful of curios, child,” his face darkening. 

“ But peculiarly expensive curios. Indeed, Mr. Rupert, it is very 
kind of you, but I am sure I ought not to take them,” reluctantly 
gathering up the glittering pile in her two small hands. 

“ But this is nonsense !” he impatiently exclaimed. “ Why on 
earth should you not accept those few miserable coins from me ?” 

“ I would like to, but ” 

“ Do you know that this is the very first time in my life that I ever 
offered anything like a present to a woman ?” 

“Yes?” her eyes dropping a little under his glance. “But I do 
not see what that has to do with it.” 

“ Won’t you take them, Betty?” his voice gently persuasive, — “to 
please me ? — as a token that we are friends ? You said that you would 
forgive, you know.” 

“ There is not much to forgive,” with an embarrassed laugh. 

“ But what little there is,” he persisted, “ you will forgive and for- 
get, Betty?” 

“ Ah, women never forget.” 

“ Do they not ?” coming a little closer, his face flushed and eager. 
“ How long will you remember this day at La Libertad ? It has been 
rather a pleasant time, has it not, Betty ?” 

“ It has been perfectly lovely,” she declared, her eyes sparkling as 
she shyly raised them to his face. “ And I shall remember it,” with 
a slight pause, “ as long as I remember you, Mr. Rupert,” with an 
inconsequential little laugh. 

“And that will be — until we reach the wharf at San Francisco?” 
with his old sardonic smile. 

“ How can I tell until we have reached the wharf at San Fran- 
cisco?” with a mocking moue at him. 

“ But we are friends now, Betty ?” somewhat breathlessly, coming 
still nearer. 

“Shall we shake hands on it?” with smiling insouciance holding 
out a slim white hand. His own trembled a little as, rather awk- 
wardly, he accepted the frank mark of favor, and he held it in loose 
grasp for an instant as though rather at a loss to know what he should 
do with it. 

“ What a pretty little thing it is,” he observed, rather embar- 
rassedly, considering the pink-tipped fingers, so delicately fair against his 
brown and roughened grasp. “I did not know that a woman grown 
could have so small a hand.” And then of a sudden, won by some- 
thing in those enticing lines, obeying an impulse as overmastering as 
unreasoning, he bent his head and pressed a kiss upon the soft pink 
palm. It was but a momentary madness ; upon the instant he started 


44 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


back, utterly overwhelmed at his temerity. This young girl, alone 
and unprotected, he felt was given him in double trust, — that it was 
his part to accord to her most punctilious deference and consideration ; 
and how had he betrayed her girlish confidence ! 

“ Great heavens, child !” with something like horror on his face. 
“ I told you I should not know where to stop !” he exclaimed, hoarsely ; 
and, as if he feared to meet her accusing eyes, without another word he 
rushed from the room. 


VII. 

A man of lofty principles, vainglorious in his strength, is always 
overwhelmed when passion first reveals to him his inconsistencies. A 
young girl, on the other hand, essentially an egotist, joying in instinct- 
ive consciousness of that power before which the brute strength of man 
has ever bowed in helpless subjection, playing with love as ruthlessly 
as a humming-bird rifles the sweets of a rose, expects alike the homage 
of prince and of peasant, and is not to be surprised at any undoing 
wrought by her witcheries. 

There was a curious blending of laughter and compassion in Betty’s 
eyes as she watched Rupert’s retreating form. “ The plot thickens,” 
she smilingly murmured, whimsically holding up her hand, as though 
she would measure the temptation to which he had succumbed. And 
then the ludicrous side of the situation irresistibly tickled her fancy, 
and she laid back her head in an ecstasy of silent laughter, kicking up 
her small heels like a frisky kitten. “ The poor thing !” she gasped, 
with a mocking commiseration that would have driven Rupert mad 
could he have known of it. “ It is the first step that costs, as he said 
when we were coming ashorfe; but then” — after a moment, with a 
sobering face — “ of course there will be no second step in this case. 
He was too much frightened,” laughing afresh ; “ and then — ” her 
eyes fixed on the floor in a deep study. “ But I could not have helped 
it,” she conclusively exclaimed, at length, as though answering an ac- 
cusation in her mind. Like most young girls, she was much given to 
a complacent sort of self-analysis, ever ready to arraign herself at the 
bar of conscience, with subtle feminine logic most happy in proving 
herself innocent when in her soul she felt most guilty. But, however 
she might excuse herself, there was still a rankling sense of discomfort 
in her mind as she began restlessly pacing the room. She wished she 
had not offered him her hand. 

And an hour more of La Libertad, — that began to assume now the 
proportions of a grievance unendurable. It was as bad as waiting at a 
country rail way- station for a belated train ; only no station of Betty’s 
acquaintance had ever been so hot and deadly still as that sepulchral 
sala. Of a sudden a happy thought struck her. She had missed her 
gloves when she looked for them, and now she remembered that it 
was in the church that she took them off. No doubt she had dropped 
them there, and why should she not go and look for them ? It would 
help kill the time, and Rupert would not know ; although, indeed, she 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


45 


could imagine no reason why he should object ; stie would be back in 
a minute, — stealing out into the hot, silent street. It was as still as a 
city of the dead : only a mangy, flea-bitten dog met her, with a foolish 
deprecating wag of the tail, as though he were well used to having his 
proffers of affection snubbed. It seemed that a Lady Godiva might 
have ridden the length and breadth of the place with never a fear of a 
waking eye upon her. But 
as she entered the church 
Betty started back, almost 
in fright. It seemed as 
if Bedlam were suddenly 
let loose there. 

“ Miss Malcolm ! is it 
really you? — and alone? 

Where is Mr. Rupert?” 

“ Where have you been 
hiding?” this in Hazel- 
ton’s voice, while his soft 
blue eyes were glowing 
with gladness. 

“We have been search- 
ing the place over for you,” 
explained another; while 
they all crowded around. 

“We asked a couple 
of men : Mr. Hazelton said 
that he could speak Span- 
ish, but nobody seemed to 
understand him.” This 
from Mrs. Alton, with a 
scathing glance at that gen- 
tleman, of which he was 
tranquilly oblivious, having 
eyes and ears only for 
Betty. 

“ At last !” he was mur- 
muring in her ear. “ I had 
begun to think that I should 
never find you again.” 

“ And how does it happen that you are alone ?” interposed Mrs. 
Alton’s sharp treble, while Betty stood stock-still, tongue-tied with 
surprise. “ Where is Mr. Rupert?” 

u FT pi is over there,” vaguely nodding her head in the direction she 
had come, her face wearing a troubled look. Too well she could 
imagine Rupert’s feelings if she should go back with all this crowd at 
her heels : yet how was she to escape them ? “I came to look for my 
gloves,” she added, helplessly. 

“You look completely done up,” Hazelton exclaimed, eagerly 
studying her face. “ Have you been prowling about in the heat all 
the while ?” 



AS SHE ENTERED THE CHURCH BETTY STARTED BACK. 


46 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


« Oh, no ; we have been resting,” rather guiltily, amiably hoping 
that her face did not betray all her disquietude at sight of them. 
“ But still I am tired, and the heat has given me a headache,” she 
wearily added, hoping that explanation would suffice to explain the 
palpable lack of cordiality in her manner. 

“ Of course you are tired,” wrathfully sympathetic. “ It is a per- 
fect outrage to bring anybody to a place like this. There is nothing to 
be seen ; and the heat is simply calculated to give hardened sinners a 
foretaste of the retribution to come. I was ” 

“Was that why you came yourself, Mr. Hazelton?” the girl inter- 
rupted, rather tartly. 

“ We came because you did,— to surprise you,” chimed in Mrs. 
Alton, with a gentle cackle of delight. 

“ Well, you certainly succeeded,” dryly. 

“ And now let us all go and surprise Mr. Rupert !” eagerly starting. 
“ Let us all steal in upon him and see what he will say !” in a tone of 
anticipatory delight. 

“ Great heavens ! don’t think of it !” laying a detaining hand upon 
her arm. “ Mr. Rupert doesn’t want to be surprised : at least” — hesi- 
tating in some embarrassment — “ I don’t want to have him surprised. 
The fact of the matter is that he is talking business ; a man has just 
come in from the interior whom he must see, and he told me, a moment 
ago, that he would probably be detained an hour longer. If you go 
and interrupt him, you know, he may have to stay all day,” with a wan 
smile, turning to Hazelton as for support; “ and surely an hour more 
is enough.” 

“ Well, I should say so,” he cordially agreed : “ don’t let us lay a 
straw in his path,” being for his own part as little desirous of Rupert’s 
society as could be. 

“What nonsense! We should not hinder him for a minute,” 
rather huffily protested Mrs. Alton. “ We should brighten the poor 
man up ! Talking business in heat like this ! — It would be simple 
Christian charity to go and make him come with us at once. We are 
going right back, you know,” she added to Betty : “ the boat is wait- 
ing for us.” 

“ Is that so?” with a smile of relief. “ Well, I am sure I wish that 
we were going with you,” feeling that now she could afford to be civil. 

“ Indeed, Miss Malcolm, you would better come with us,” put in a 
youth who, in his own chosen dialect, had just confided to a companion 
his opinion that the little Malcolm was “a good-looker from ’wav 
back,” and that, if there were “any show” for him, he would not mind 
“ doing the civil” himself. ' “ You will be baked to a cinder in an hour 
more of this.” 

“ No question about it, Mr. Davis,” smiling rather patronizingly 
upon the boy, who was, as a matter of fact, a year or more her senior. 
“ It is pretty nearly as bad as being burned at the stake. But then I 
fancy that 1 have rather a genius for martyrdom : most women have 
don’t you think ?” with a comfortable little laugh. “ But I want to 
find my gloves,” turning back into the church. In instinctive rever- 
ence for the place, the party had drifted outside with their talk. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


47 


“ The best thing about a church is that it is generally cool,” with 
languid appreciation Hazelton remarked, as he followed after her, aim- 
lessly glancing about. 

“ Are you sure that you lost them here ?” queried young Davis, 
engaged in anxious search. 

“ Well, no; I am beginning to have grave doubts about it : at any 
rate, I can assure you that I did not hide them under the altar candle- 
sticks,” in half-laughing, half-shocked expostulation, as the young 
fellow, in his zeal, seemed bent on turning the place inside out. “ I 
must have dropped them somewhere else.” 

“ I am afraid that they are not going to materialize here, at all 
events,” Hazelton observed, with a languid show of sympathy, turning 
back with her to the door. “ I hope you don’t much mind ?” 

“ If you are afraid of tan and sunburn, we will each agree to hold 
a hand all the way back,” laughed Davis ; “ that is, if you will come 
with us.” 

“ The cure would be worse than the disease,” the girl gayly de- 
clared. “Do you know, I believe I will walk down to the wharf with 
you and see you off,” she artfully added. There seemed to be no help 
for it. Either she must go with them, or they would all walk back to 
the house with her ; and once there it might prove more than embar- 
rassing to get rid of them. 

“ Why, I say,” exclaimed Hazelton, halting suddenly, “you folks 
walk on without me. I am just going down there to try and persuade 
Rupert to give his man from the interior a rest and come with us.” 

“ Well, I wish you joy of the undertaking,” laughed Betty. She 
had no idea that his mission could be a success, and she laughed to 
think of the snubbing awaiting him. 

“ The very thing !” cried Mrs. Alton, joyously. “ Tell him that we 
all insist upon it, — that I say he must come,” screaming after Hazelton, 
who with long strides was already well on his way. “ That is some- 
thing like,” with smiling satisfaction. “It would be perfectly absurd 
to go and leave you two to come trailing after alone. And indeed, 
child,” in a tone of friendly admonition, as they walked along together, 
“I cannot think what possessed you to come away alone in the first 
place. I was perfectly amazed when I saw you starting. Why did 
you not ask me to come and chaperon you ? I would have been de- 
lighted.” 

“ You ?” with a cool stare, faintly impertinent, much as an ento- 
mologist might regard some rather insignificant bug ; but Mrs. Alton 
never thought of measuring the meaning of feminine glances. “ It 
did not occur to me, Mrs. Alton.” 

“ I suppose not,” as amiably willing to accept the apology ; “ but 
really, you know, it ought. I am sure that your mother could not ap- 
prove ” 

“ Oh, but I assure you that she could,” tranquilly interposed the 
girl. “ Mamma approves of everything I do. It is her crowning 
weakness.” 

« Of course, to a young girl like you,” in an amiably reasoning 
tone, “ Mr. Rupert may seem quite old and ” 


48 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


“ Oh, no,” smiling sweetly ; “ not so very old, certainly ; scarcely 
older than you, I should say, Mrs. Alton.” 

“ Then you have made a very poor guess at my age, Miss Mal- 
colm,” sharply, her cheeks reddening angrily under the dust of pearl- 
powder. “ Mr. Rupert is years older than I. But that is not the point. 
What I want to suggest is that people will make remarks, you know.” 

“ But I do not concern myself about the class of people who make 
remarks, Mrs. Alton,” tranquilly gazing seaward. They had walked 
to the end of the pier, and Betty was comforted to note that the sea ap- 
peared somewhat smoother than it had been an hour ago, while the tide 
had manifestly risen a little, promising a few inches less of a drop in 
that dreadful chair-vehicle for the return trip. 

“ Then you will some time have occasion to regret it, Miss Mal- 
colm,” retorted Mrs. Alton, severely. 

“ Yes? do you think so?” with smiling indifference. “Ah, there 
comes Mr. Hazelton.” 

“ And Mr. Rupert is not with him !” cried the little widow, disap- 
pointedly. 

“ I did not suppose that he would be,” Betty placidly rejoined, 
smilingly watching the approach of the disappointed envoy. 

“ Oh, I say, that is a shame !” protested young Davis, indignantly. 
“ To keep you here an hour longer ! But when it comes to that, — 
misery loves company, they say, — what is the matter with our all stay- 
ing and keeping you company ?” 

“ Indeed we will,” exclaimed Mrs. Alton, with a comforting air. 

“ Indeed you shall not,” protested the girl, warmly. “ I could not 
think of keeping you.” 

But as he came nearer it was seen that Hazelton’s face was by no 
means indicative of failure. He was radiant. “ Rupert says that you 
are to come with us,” he called out triumphantly as soon as he was 
within speaking-distance. 

“I? — and he is not coming himself?” staring at him in angry in- 
credulity. “ It is simply impossible.” 

“ I don’t like to contradict a lady,” joyously smiling upon her, 
“ but it is the simple unvarnished truth. I am sorry if you don’t like 
it,” with sdmething of gentle reproach in his voice. 

“ Well, I don’t like it,” wrath fully candid. “ And I would like to 
know if you told him that I said I wanted to go with you; because 
if you did, I must say that I think it was very officious of you.” ’ 

“ I do not know why you should imagine that 1 told him anything 
of the sort,” his blond beauty flushing with anger in turn. “ I did 
tell him that we were going back now, and that you — you in the plu- 
ral, mind — would better come with us. I believe that I added that 
you were rather done up, or something of that sort, by way of persua- 
sion, but he did not seem to need much urging so far as you were con- 
cerned, I can tell you plainly. He said that he had been a good deal 
concerned at having to detain you so long, and that it was just as well 
that you should go back to the ship, where you could be comfortable. 

There was a slant-eyed Celestial opening champagne for them, and ”* 

checking himself, as if he had been on the verge of revelations that 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


49 


were as well not made, “ well, of course Rupert put it altogether on 
the ground of solicitude for your comfort.” 

“Oh, of course,” sullenly considering the toe of one small boot. 

“ And good for him, I say,” cried Davis, densely unconscious of 
her wrath. “ He is welcome to his booze, since he has given us good 
company. We shan’t envy him the champagne.” 

“ Of course you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, all the 
same,” put in Hazelton, sulkily, staring at the horizon with a stolid 
assumption of indifference. “ I presume Rupert would not mind if 
you stayed.” 

“ Why, thanks : do you really think not?” sarcastically, an angry 
red flaming on either cheek. “But I do not care to stay. All the 
same, you may as well know that I am not grateful either to Mr. 
Rupert or to you.” 

“ It is superfluous for you to say it,” with a glance as defiant as 
her own. 

“ And you know,” interposed the widow, soothingly, her eyes be- 
traying something like joy in the situation, “ if Mr. Rupert thinks it 
best for you to go, I do not see how you can get around it.” 

“ I don’t want to get around it,” in keen exasperation. “ I am 
suffering to go — now. And what on earth are we waiting for? Why 
do we not start at once?” turning upon Hazelton impatiently. 

“Because, since it is hardly practicable to swim, it is necessary to 
wake up these wretched peons first,” he rather sullenly retorted, turn- 
ing to fire a volley of pungent Spanish at the sleepy boatmen uncon- 
cernedly lounging about the wharf. 

“ What a pity that your gloves were lost!” remarked young Davis, 
with tardy appreciation of her state of mind, pacifically bent on 
changing the subject. “I’m afraid your hands will get awfully sun- 
burned.” 

“Yes; it is a pity about the gloves,” Betty thoughtfully agreed, 
her face curiously changing as she held out her bare right hand, con- 
sidering its lines with something of the whimsical amusement that had 
been upon her face after Rupert’s impulsive caress. “ It is really most 
unfortunate, all things considered. You can hardly imagine how 
much 1 regret it, — what a bother it has made. If I had only never 
taken them off! — ah, if Cleopatra’s nose had been shorter ! ” break- 

ing off with a vexed laugh. 

“ Why, look here,” exclaimed Hazelton, reassured at the laugh, 
his own good humor well-nigh restored in view of the fact that he 
was, after all, getting his own way ; “ if I should be very, very un- 
selfish, Miss Malcolm, I think that you might bring yourself to forgive 
me for Rupert’s shortcomings, and call the thing square. I hate to — ” 
reluctantly reaching inside his breast-pocket, “ but rather than see the 
poor little hands burned to a crisp before my eyes, — see here !” laugh- 
ingly holding out a crumpled pair of tan-colored gloves, quite astonish- 
ing in their extravagant stretch of buttons. 

“ You had them all the time !” with vehement reproach, thanklessly 
pouncing upon her property. “And you never said a word !” 

“You did not ask me if I had them,” smiling serenely; “and 
Vol. LI.— 4 


50 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


then — ” with an expressive pause, “ I think you ought to appreciate 
my self-sacrificing spirit now, and be very kind to me,” he added, in a 
tone only her ear might hear. 

She had been nervously twisting the soft kid together, and now, as 
he finished, her lip curling in sympathy with the scornful quiver of 
her nostrils, she lifted the compact little ball and tossed it contempt- 
uously over into the water. Hazelton paled as if he had been struck, 
his eyes glowing like sapphires. In a flash he had turned to a half- 
clothed boy lying on the wharf, idly surveying the party through the 
narrow slits of his sleepy eyes. A few vigorous words, accompanied 
by the showing of a handful of loose silver, and the lad had darted 
like a cat down the ladder by the side of the pier, dropping nimbly 
into the lighter lurching alongside. An instant he stood poised on the 
gunwale, eagerly glancing about, and then in he plunged, riding the 
surging waves like a cork. Betty and Mrs. Alton screamed in sym- 
pathetic terror; the young fellows were excitedly offering bets as to the 
success of the boy ; only Hazelton stood silent, pale and unmoved, 
until, in scarce more time than it takes to tell of it, the boy was back, 
shaking the water from his scanty clothes like a dog, while he grinned 
in delighted appreciation of the reward poured into his hand in return 
for that little lump of sodden brown kid. 

“ There, my lady Caprice,” Hazelton exclaimed then, turning to 
her with a smiling tranquillity belied by the triumphant glitter of his 
eyes, “ you see that two can play at that game. And when you want 
your gloves again — well, you will ask me for them !” 

A couple of hours later the stewardess of the Southern Cross came 
bringing down to Betty’s state-room an armful of curios and withered 
flowers, “ with Mr. Rupert’s compliments.” 

“ You can carry them right back to him,” cried the girl, explo- 
sively, raising a white face from the pillow. “Or, no; go and throw 
them all overboard.” 

“That would be a pity, miss,” returned the woman, unmoved, 
beyond feeling surprise at any caprice of sea-sick human nature, while 
she carefully deposed of the things in the unused upper berth. “ When 
you feel better, you will like them to remember the place by; though 
it is a pretty poor place, I take it. It hardly paid you to go ashore, 
now did it?” 

“ Well, no; on the whole, I do not think that it did,”" with a queer 
little smile ; “ but you may leave the things, and thank you. Per- 
haps, as you suggest, when I feel better I may find it— instructive — 
to look .at the things and remember the day at La Libertad.” 


VIII. 

Nowhere on the face of earth lags the lazy foot of time more slowly 
than upon an ocean voyage, where from the rising of the sun until its 
setting again there appears nothing new to be seen, nothing to be done 
that has not over and over again been proved utterly flat, stale, and 
unprofitable. And nothing can be more destructive of the amenities 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


51 


and soothing deceptions of polite life than sea-sickness ; under no condi- 
tions can human nature become more candidly and relentlessly human. 

The passengers of the Southern Cross, their patience sorely tried 
by the coal-economizing system that prevails on board the Pacific Mail 
steam-ships, with judgment in many instances warped and jaundiced by 
stomachic disturbances grievous to endure, were growing very tired of 
their slow progress through the long empty days, and withal, in most 
cases, resentfully weary of each other’s society. As a rule, each was 
persuaded, and upon the smallest provocation would garrulously de- 
clare, that never had such an uninteresting lot of people been gotten 
together on sea or land before. 

“ There !” cried Mrs. Alton, in a tone that might have conveyed 
the feelings of the traditional camel when the fatal last straw was laid 
upon his back. “ Listen ! there is that dreadful child practising that 
‘Fourteenth Amusement’ again ! — Did you ever?” with a pause ex- 
pressive of disgust unspeakable. “And have you observed that it is 
always the people who do not know how to play who are to be heard 
pounding on the pianos in public places? Real musicians — those 
whom one might enjoy hearing — must always be begged and entreated ; 
but children and fools! — I always say that it is an outrage on the 
travelling public to have pianos in hotel parlors and in places like this, 
where they are simply instruments of torture for inoffensive people 
who cannot protect themselves.” 

“ We might stuff our ears with cotton,” suggested Betty, tranquilly 
smiling. They were sitting on the upper deck, in the lee of Social 
Hall, while at a little distance loitered Dick Hazelton, watchfully wait- 
ing for Mrs. Alton to take herself elsewhere ; for, that astute young 
man subtly argued, if he were to join Betty then the chances were that 
the little widow would linger on in disconcerting enjoyment of the 
conversation ; while if he but gave her a little time she was likely to 
tire of the situation and go. It was one of Dick Hazelton’s theories 
in which he was complacently confident, that, to the average woman, 
society without a man was as soup without salt; And so, although 
inwardly fuming with impatience, he held himself ah of and waited, 
while Betty, perfectly understanding his attitude, was full of smiles as 
she strove to keep the unconscious Mrs. Alton engrossed in conver- 
sation. 

“ Cotton ! we would need to be stone-deaf to escape that !” with a 
vicious toss of her head toward the cabin skylight whence issued re- 
lentlessly the hated sounds. “ I wonder what that child’s mother can 
be thinking of! Such cold-blooded selfishness I never before en- 
countered.” 

“Rather a misnomer, isn’t it, to call the thing an Amusement?” 
her eyes sparkling with laughter in a side-glance at Hazelton’s pale, 
discontented face. “ I always used to wonder at Richardson’s conceit 
when I was obliged to practise those compositions myself.” 

“The man must have been clean daft to call them anything but 
horrors,” with an air of personal injury. 

“ Well, there was method in his madness, — ‘ Richardson’s New 
Method,’ ” her laugh quite out of proportion to the small witticism. 


52 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


“ 1 shall certainly speak to the purser about it,” pursued the other, 
still gloomily brooding over her wrongs. “ With that child’s five- 
finger exercises, and the outbursts of those Moody and Sankey people 
whenever they can get the piano away from her, there is simply no 
peace for the wicked on board this ship. And no end of people still 
sea-sick ! It is enough to be the death of them ! Do ask Mr. Hazel- 
ton to go below and sing.” 

“ As a choice of evils ? — he would feel flattered.” 

“ He looks anything but flattered now, I should say,” calmly re- 
garding his pale, discontented beauty across the deck. “ I wonder 
what that old Spaniard has been saying to him ; he has been growing 
blacker and blacker — I have had my eye on him all the while we have 
been talking. He looks perfectly thunder-cloudish, does he not?” in a 
tone of impartial criticism. “ I hope that he has not been drinking. 
They tell me that he drinks like a fish.” 

“Yes?” with tranquil indifference, although there was a dangerous 
light in her eyes. “ And how does a fish drink ? I am not sure that I 
know.” 

“ Why, no more do I, for that matter,” with her rasping little 
laugh ; “ but you know what I mean. Everybody says he is a sad 
case.” 

“ Do they ?” absently, gazing out over the ruffled plain of waters 
sown all over with seeds of sunshine springing up before one’s eyes 
into a dazzling crop of flowers of phantom gold, that danced and played 
and tossed their bright heads at one another as tirelessly as a wind- 
blown field of daisies. 

“ They say that at Panama he was dreadfully fast,” her voice im- 
pressively hushed. “ Indeed, I think that I ought to tell you — but 
perhaps you don’t care for good advice ” 

“ H-m,” pursing up her pretty mouth, and knitting her brows as 
though deeply considering the subject. “ I don’t think that I should 
ever lie on the floor and kick and scream for it.” 

“ What an idea ! you funny child ! But, all the same, I am older 
than you, — not so very much, of course, but still somewhat older ” 

“Oh, undoubtedly, — somewhat,” with a tranquil emphasis that 
brought an added red to Mrs. Alton’s powdered cheeks. 

“ And I feel bound to tell you, for your own good, that everybody 
is wondering at your flirtation with him.” 

“ My flirtation with him !” the girl repeated, with a start of indig- 
nant surprise. 

“ Indeed, yes, — that you seem so taken with him, you know,” 
delighted at last to have penetrated the girl’s armor of smiling indiffer- 
ence. “ They say that he is a regular Don Juan.” 

“ Oh !” in an indescribable voice. 

“ I hope you do not mind my telling you,” quite magnanimously. 
“ I do it for your good.” 

“ I have always observed that when people have anything disagree- 
able to force upon us it is generally assumed to be for our good,” with 
ungrateful emphasis. “ And have you anything else to tell me — for 
my good ?” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


53 


“ There ! now you are angry,” with an injured air. “ I told Mr. 
Rupert that you would take it that way, — I felt sure of it.” 

“Oh, you told Mr. Rupert, did you?” with an unlovely smile. 
“ And it was he who told you all these particulars about Mr. Hazelton, 
perhaps; and it was he who amiably wondered that I could be ‘so 
taken’ with a regular Don Juan !” pinning her with an angry glance. 

“ Why, how you do jump at conclusions !” cried the widow, dis- 
comfited, dimly realizing that she had been guilty of what, in the 
opinion of the English statesman, was worse than a crime, — a blunder. 
“ Mr. Rupert merely suggested — the subject happened somehow to be 
mentioned, you know, and he merely suggested that I might drop you 
a hint, as a sister might do.” 

“And so Mr. Rupert thought that I needed to be warned, did 
he? But he was willing enough to turn me over to Mr. Hazelton at 
La Libertad, I noticed. As an alternate, upon occasion, it appears that 
Mr. Hazelton is not so objectionable. Would you mind suggesting to 
your friend — when the subject happens somehow to be mentioned again 
— that his attitude in this matter appears to me rather inconsistent? 
And would you mind adding” — with a scathing glance — “ that if Mr. 
Rupert has any further hints to offer I should prefer to receive them 
directly from himself?” 

“ What was that dreadful woman saying to you?” demanded Dick 
Hazelton, when at length the coast was clear and he had hurried to 
possess himself of the chair at Betty’s side. “I have been trying to 
imagine as I watched you. It struck me once or twice that you wanted 
to say ‘ damn !’ ” 

“ I wanted to say nothing of the sort,” with some asperity. 

“Oh, well, some pious, proper, feminine equivalent for damn, 
then,” with his easy laugh. “ Don’t tell me that I cannot read your 
face a little bit by this time. And, do you know, it struck me that 
she might be talking about me?” 

“ I believe it was Sydney Smith who said that nobody is conceited 
before one o’clock, but ” with a smile not altogether amiable. 

“ I had a fancy that she was talking about me,” he went on, as if 
she had not interrupted, absently twisting, with gentle, caressing touch, 
the fringe of a corner of Betty’s white shawl, “ and I thought,” hesi- 
tating, with a glance of sudden flashing tenderness, — “ was it too con- 
ceited? — I thought you were taking my part.” 

“Goodness ! why should I?” a tinge of vexation in her constrained 
laugh. “Do you think that I am like that Frenchman of whom they 
said ‘ qu’il avait passe la vie en venant toujours an secours du plus fort’ ? 
I think that you are amply able to fight your own battles, Mr. Hazel- 
ton,” as with an unconscious movement twitching the bit of shawl from 
his grasp. He watched her for a moment in silence. 

“ Did she not speak of me ?” he persisted, in a lower voice, omi- 
nously calm. 

“ She mentioned you, if you must know,” ungraciously. 

“ And her remarks were not — complimentary ?” 

“Why should you harp so upon one string?” she impatiently 
retorted. “ What does it matter what she said?” 


54 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


“ It does not, so far as she is concerned. But it matters a great 
deal if she said anything that affects you, — that will turn you against 
me, if ever so little. And you have practically admitted that she has.” 

“I have admitted nothing,” cried the girl, crossly; “and I am 
sick of the subject.” 

“ I know that she was raking me fore and aft, — confound her !” he 
pursued, wrathfully ; “and I would have come over and stopped her 
in short order, but that I knew she was bound to have her little say 
some time, and it might as well be now as later. I wish you would 
tell me what it was and let me answer for myself,” pleadingly. “ But 
no matter,” a brilliant flash of triumph in his eyes ; “ I believe that 
you stood up for me, though you won’t admit it. I don’t believe that 
you like me any less than you did before,” with all the happy con- 
fidence of his voice, a gentle pleading in his eyes. 

“ I don’t see how I well could,” retorted the girl, sharply. 

“ You mean because you cared so little?” in a low, tense voice, his 
face grown white and stern. 

“ I don’t mean anything — except that the subject does not inter- 
est me in the least,” quite pettishly. “ Do let us talk of something 
else.” 

Hazelton sighed as if with relief, a brilliant smile curving his lips, 
his glance falling upon her like a caress. “ By all means let us talk 
of something else. Shall I tell you what I mean, Betty, by way of 
changing the subject ?” 

“ You might explain what you mean by calling me Betty when you 
have scarcely known me a week,” she tartly retorted. 

“ Is it only a week ?” dreamily looking at her. “ It seems strange 
that a week ago I might have passed you on the streets of Panama with 
merely the thought, ‘ There goes a pretty girl !’ It seems impossible, 

incredible, now when ” stopping short with a catch in his voice, 

the fingers that had caught up the shawl again obviously trembling, 
“ now when all day long I do nothing, think of nothing, but to follow 
you about, watching for a chance to get you away from Rupert or Mrs. 
Alton.” 

“And why do you? — if that is so,” sharply, almost angrily. “ I 
am sure that nobody asks you to.” 

He grew white, a sullen cold white, at the tone, while his eyes 
blazed with passion. “ Shall I tell you why ?” he retorted, hoarsely. 
“ Do I need to tell you ? Has it not told itself a hundred times 
over ?” 

“Isn’t the wind rising a little?” abstractedly gazing seaward. “ I 
almost believe I am catching cold. Is it possible to catch cold in the 
tropics ?” 

He regarded her in silence for a moment, his eyes still aflame. 
“ I would almost like to shake you,” he exclaimed then, breaking into 
a vexed laugh. 

“ Heavens ! what an utterly irrational impulse ! But of course 
Satan is proverbially instigating idle hands to mischief. To take you 
out of temptation, and having an eye to self-preservation, I think I 
must persuade you to go below and give us some music. Mrs. Alton 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


55 


was wishing that you would go and sing : that was one of her remarks 
in reference to you, by the way.” 

“That was not all she said, though,” with unshaken confidence. 
“ But I will go and sing to you, if you wish it. I can sing what you 
will not let me say to you,” a sort of caressing defiance in his voice. 



HAS IT NOT TOLD ITSELF A HUNDRED TIMES OVER ?” 


And presently Dwight Rupert, walking the deck with Mrs. Alton 
tightly gripping his arm, as much astonished at the predicament in 
which he found himself as was the Doge of Genoa to see himself at 
Versailles, heard floating up through the cabin skylight the old song 
with its tender refrain, — 

I love but thee, and only thee ; 

I love but thee alone. 

“It is Mr. Hazelton singing to Miss Malcolm,” Mrs. Alton super- 
fluously explained. “ He has a voice — well, not a bit like a bird’s, of 
course ; no man’s ever is, so far as my observation goes, whatever the 
poets may say about it ; but his voice is remarkably fine, don’t you 
think ?” 

“ Well, yes,” Rupert grimly admitted. “I believe it is Plutarch 
who says somewhere that the best musical instruments are made from 
the jaw-bones of asses ; and I believe that Plutarch never made a more 
sensible observation.” 


IX. 

The people on board the Southern Cross were the poorer by almost 
two weeks spent out of their brief allowance of days on earth, yet 
scarce one among them, however grudgingly conscious of fast- wasting 
time, could wish those long hours back again. They were all tired of 
staring into the blue space where sky and water vaguely met; of watch- 
ing the restless fleets of gulls and pelicans forever sailing the blue above, 
mocking with their white flash of wings the shifting spray in eternal 


56 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


unrest on the fretted blue below. There was the same endless stretch of 
bleak, uninviting coast, the bare cliffs now borrowing enchantment from 
the violet haze of distance, now hiding their rugged heights under soft 
wrappings of gray mists until only the birds might find them out, and 
again so near that one must hear the hoarse booming, like a paean of 
triumph, as the old Titans caught the giant waves in their mighty arms 
and hurled them, writhing and foaming, back again. Even the most 
enthusiastic of the amateur “old salts” among them were ready to 
admit that they had for the time had enough of the pitching and roll- 
ing of the good ship, of the unceasing creaking and groaning of the 
wood-work, the wailing of the wind through the rigging, the hot, feverish 
throb of the engine, and the sickening smells of oil. 

The ship’s officers went about looking grim and weary. The cap- 
tain when approached was courteously, but no less unequivocally, cross. 
There had been a long stretch of dangerous coast, and the long nights 
of sleepless watchfulness were telling alike on skipper and mates. It 
had been a remarkably pleasant voyage, they were all agreed ; rarely 
had there been a trip when there was so little need for the racks upon 
the tables, the steward declared ; but none the less, with that curious 
inconsistency so often to be observed at sea, there had been not a few 
among the passengers, and notably the ones who at the outset had most 
boasted themselves good sailors, to succumb to the common malady, 
from which they had arisen 

of such vinegar aspect 
They would not show their teeth in way of smile 
Though Nestor swore the jest were laughable. 

Every game known upon the high seas had in turn been weighed in 
the balance of popular favor and found wanting. The loungers of the 
smoking-room still might find a languid excitement in betting on the 
day’s run, nor had the interest in draw-poker and “ Muggins” altogether 
failed them ; but for the majority there was little left beyond the list- 
less sense of waiting for the end. 

Since the day at La Libertad Dwight Rupert had practically washed 
his hands of Betty Malcolm. At the other ports at which the ship had 
stopped he had troubled himself with no show of courtesies, merely 
noticing, with a careless surprise which he felt was akin to utter indif- 
ference, that she resolutely resisted the importunities of the others to 
go ashore. Added to a small personal grievance scarce acknowledged 
in his own mind, and his disapproval of her attitude toward Hazelton, 
who was as her shadow, there was his growing dread of Mrs. Alton to 
keep him aloof from the girl. The vivacious widow had come to seem 
to him as a very Apollyon in petticoats, to “ straddle across the whole 
breadth of the way.” She seemed to be all over the ship at once, the 
main object of his avoidance by day, his dreams by night haunted with 
nightmare repetitions of her twittering voice, with its irrepressible laugh, 
which seemed to him to break out mechanically at regular intervals 
between her words, like a cracked bell on a type- writer. There were 
days when Betty herself was determinedly friendly, when she kept him 
beside her with a wilful sociability not to'be rebuffed ; and then at her 
caprice he had walked the deck with her, read aloud, or played casino, 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


57 


even incidentally enduring the society of Mrs. Alton, with a certain 
surprised sense of enjoyment, although the instant that the girl ceased 
to take the initiative he had promptly relapsed to his attitude of cold 
quiescence. But, however he might seem to ignore her, he knew there 
was still not an hour of the day when he was not conscious of Betty 
Malcolm. He knew that he invented pretexts for going here and 
there, braving the chances of encountering Mrs. Alton by the way, 
that he might see for himself where the girl was and what she was 
doing. Whatever his attitude, the sense of his responsibility hung 
upon him, no more to be shaken off than a veritable Old Man of the 
Sea. 

A latitude of winter had now been reached, and a sharp northern 
chill was in the wind that relentlessly swept the decks. The long- 
haired black monkey that had been execrated of everybody on board 
because of its disquieting habit of appearing in unexpected places, hang- 
ing by the tail as if just ready to pounce upon 
the exposed heads of nervous people, was now 
rolled up in a pitiful, shivering ball upon its 
mistress’s lap. The shy, dark-faced sefioras 
who had come aboard at the Central American 
ports were chilled to the bone in their flimsy 
gowns, despite the rebosos and shawls draped 
mantilla- wise over their heads. The decks 
were almost deserted, and people felt a re- 
vival of sociability in the impulse to crowd 
together in the warm saloon and Social 
Hall. 

It was then that some sanguine spirits 
evolved the project of a mock trial, a breach- 
of-promise case of course. Nobody ever heard 
of a sea-voyage without a mock trial, it was 
urged ; and why should they omit a custom so 
well established ? A lively little woman, un- 
embarrassed by the circumstance that she had 
a husband and two strapping boys on board, 
was delighted to appear as the interesting 
plaintiff; while a long and lank Englishman, 
of the subdued and lugubrious cast of counte- 
nance generally assumed to properly represent A temperance lecturer. 
the ministerial type, was induced to pose as 
the gay deceiver who had trifled with her young affections. 

The case proceeded, as such affairs generally do, with much foolish- 
ness and some little genuine wit, until, at length, a witness for the de- 
fence, a gentleman whose chronic thirst for cocktails was universally 
understood, brought down the house, so to speak, when asked his occu- 
pation, by saying that he travelled as a temperance lecturer, at the ex- 
pense of the W. C. T. U. But even the grotesque incongruity of this 
statement was felt to be altogether surpassed when Dick Hazelton, 
coming after, stated that it was his business to travel with the lecturer 
as “ the horrible example.” This was felt to be the crowning joke of 



58 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


the day, and even those who were still sea-sick joined in the laugh that 
paid tribute to Hazelton’s audacious wit. 

The trial after this growing verbose and tiresome, the court was 
presently declared adjourned ; and it was then that the devil entered 
into certain graceless youths, inspiring them to lay their heads together 
in the devising of a practical joke, which was nothing less than the 
plying of the vaporous temperance advocate with mischievous mixed 
drinks until he should become minded to hold forth to them in his 
vaunted lecture, while at the same time Dick Hazelton should be 
drawn on as nearly as might be to the condition felt to be essential to 
the proper impersonation of “ the horrible example.” They would end 
the voyage with a roaring farce. 

Dick Hazelton was in that sorry condition of mind known as the 
blues. It was one of the days when Rupert was first in Betty Mal- 
colm’s capricious good graces, and all the morning she had been with 
him up in the captain’s room making a hand at whist. Not until after 
lunch did Hazelton find opportunity for a word with her alone, and 
then she was hurrying up the companion-way. 

“Are you going back there, to stay all the afternoon?” he de- 
manded, halting her, his tone half peremptory, half pleading. 

“ I have not considered how long I may stay,” smiling teasingly 
down at him over her shoulder. “ Is there any objection to my 
stopping as long as they make it pleasant for me?” 

“Well, yes; I have decided objections; though I know that you 
won’t let that hurry you away,” his manner bitterly resentful. “ You 
might as well go up in a balloon, so far as I am concerned : you know 
that your grouty old captain has never encouraged me to put my nose 
inside his door.” 

“ No?” arching her eyebrows, airily amused. “ How can he be so 
unappreciative ? — so lacking in taste ?” 

“ If you go,” with sullen menace, “I believe I shall throw myself 
overboard, — or do something worse.” 

“ Oh, don’t be rash,” with smiling indifference, turning to go. “ I 
shall not see you, then, when I come down,” she tentatively added, 
glancing back, a light of laughter in her eyes. 

“When will you come back?” eagerly springing up beside her. 
“ May I wait for you in Social Hall? Will you come soon?” 

“ Ah, quien sabe f” with a little oblique glance whose power to stir 
the hot blood of man she had well learned. “ It would hardly pay 
you to wait, I fancy.” 

“ It would more than pay me if I knew you were coming soon,” 
passionately, imploringly. 

“ Well,” irresolutely halting “ Ah, there is Mr. Rupert !” as the 

door above opened and that person put in his head, making a quick 
motion as if he would withdraw when he saw the pair on the stairs. 
“Ah, no,” with a sudden decision, hurriedly turning to leave him, 
“don’t think of waiting, Mr. Hazelton. We are quite likely to go 
on playing cards all the afternoon.” 

“Will you promise me all the evening, then?” the dull white of 
passionate anger upon his face. “ It is our last evening together.” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


59 


But Betty made as if she did not hear. “ Were you looking for 
me, Mr. Rupert?” she gayly called up to him, as she lightly ran up 
the stairs. “ Are we to have that rubber now?” 

Dick Hazelton’s execrations as he retreated could only be expressed 
with dashes. Never before had he bestowed his fickle fancy upon 
woman without receiving tenfold more than he gave ; never before bad 
one been found to resist his forceful wishes ; and never before, he felt, 
had he been so stirred to passionate longing as now with this slip of a 
girl who yielded him nothing. If for a moment, in butterfly caprice, 
she seemed almost ensnared, inflaming him afresh with her pretty 
witcheries, it was but the next moment to slip from his grasp, eluding 
his desires like a will-o’-the-wisp. 

Never could he have been in better mood to fall into the trap 
prepared for him by his friends the enemy. Like most men given to 
periodical debauches rather than to steady every-day tippling, there 
was wont to come upon him at those times when endurance seemed to 
have run down, and the swaying pendulum of good resolutions had 
come to a stand-still, a longing unutterable for drink, when it appeared 
as if the smallest grievance must serve as excuse to deaden his senses 
with drunkenness. For days now he had been fighting against appe- 
tite, in his passion for Betty Malcolm and his longing to stand well 
with her, the strongest motive toward right living he had ever known, 
— well knowing what must be the result if he once yielded to the 
tempter and lost control of himself. But now it needed not the pre- 
text that the end in view was the loosening of the lecturer’s tongue. 
He felt that he had all possible reason for imbibing what cheer they 
had to offer on his own account. Nor did the other guest of the oc- 
casion need more urging, he being frankly of the opinion, as he ex- 
pressed himself, that good wine needed neither bush nor blarney, and 
being ever ready to empty a bottle with any man. 

The better to keep their project to themselves, the conspirators had 
brought all the party to that large state-room aft, the best the ship 
afforded, which Dick Hazel ton, who never grudged any expense that 
might contribute to his own comfort, occupied by himself. Roomy as 
it was, such a number were packed almost as close as sardines in a box; 
but, like a lot of school-boys on a frolic, they perched themselves on 
the berths and wash-stand, not even disdaining a seat on the floor, in 
devil-may-care enjoyment of the situation. It soon became apparent, 
however, that the scheme, so far as the temperance advocate was con- 
cerned, was doomed to flat failure, that gentleman appearing to be 
blessed with a capacity, coupled with a sort of wooden insensibility, 
that it seemed might fairly rival the famous tun of Heidelberg. At 
all suggestions to deliver his vaunted lecture he sniffed in contempt, 
eloquently drowning the idea in a flow of liquid that, to the few who 
still might reflect on the price of Veuve Clicquot and remember that 
it was for them to pay for it, was rather appalling; while ever less and 
less as he drank did he evince any disposition to talk at all. But, as 
if bent on making up for the shortcomings of his associate, Dick 
Hazelton was rapidly reaching a state of maudlin garrulity. Egged 
on by his delighted audience, he talked incessantly ; and the burden 


60 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


of all his talk — alas ! — was little Betty Malcolm. Enthusiastically, if 
somewhat incoherently, he expatiated on her charms, making lachrymose 
appeals for sympathy as he bewailed her heartlessness. With verbose 
particularity he compared his infatuation for her with other cases in 
his rather wide experience, incidentally making disclosures that might 
have wrecked the peace of many a household had those who listened been 
minded to remember and publish the details to a curious world. Hap- 
pily, there appeared to be nothing to tell in respect to Betty Malcolm, 
barring his own passion and despair, upon which theme he dwelt with 
pathos growing ever more tangled, until, as he sat upon the floor in 
limp dejection, he was finally reduced to copious weeping, altogether 
overcome by his accumulation of woes, together with the gratuitous 
discomfort of sundry bits of ice which somebody, with the refinement 
of wit quite generally developed upon such occasions, had been slipping 
down his back. 

“But I say, old fellow! don’t give up that way. If you want to 
marry the girl, why, marry her !” pertinently put in one whose ideas 
were still coherent, pacifically bent on creating a diversion ; for Hazel- 
ton, in sudden change of mood, was drying his eyes and glaring sav- 
agely about while he muttered dire threats against the man who had 
been taking liberties with his back. 

“ In fact, why don’t you go in and marry her straight olf and be 
done with it?” struck with a brilliant idea. “The captain has au- 
thority to tie the knot on the high seas, you know, and here’s the whole 
of us ready and willing to do you proud in the line of ushers and best 
men. And then — a wedding at sea ! how unique and recherche and all 
that sort of thing ! Why, man, it’s the chance of a lifetime. And then, 
you know,” wagging his head ominously, “ there’s many a slip ’twixt 
cup and lip,” the force of the adage considerably emphasized by the 
spilling of a glass of punch inside his own vest at that moment, as the 
ship inopportunely rolled. 

“The very thing!” chimed in a colleague, ecstatically. “What’s 
the use of hanging back, Hazelton? — you know your own mind. Just 
you go to her and say, ‘ Now or never, old girl !’ and see if she don’t 
snap at you ! You will finish Rupert at one fell swoop ; and we’ll 
wind up the voyage in style, with the Wedding March.” 

In truth, Dick Hazelton was considerably sobered by this some- 
what startling suggestion; but, like Barkis, he was wholly “willin’,” 
and it needed but small argument on the part of the addle-pated con- 
spirators to persuade him that here was the one solution of all his 
troubles. Considerable disjointed argument was stirred up by the 
query of one sordid soul as to whether, under such circumstances, the 
captain should have the usual marriage-fee ; but all the preliminaries 
were satisfactorily arranged finally, with much befuddled enthusiasm 
on the part of poor Dick, who insisted upon shaking each one by the 
hand over and over again, while he vowed eternal gratitude for their 
whole-souled interest in his happiness. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


61 


X. 

It was fortunate that the ship was rolling rather heavily, else some, 
whose wives were watching them as they lurched through the saloon 
on their way to the captain’s room, might have had a bad quarter of 
an hour in store for them ; the gentleman who professed to represent 
the principles of the W. C. T. U. being the only one of the company 
who could have assumed to walk a bee-line with any hope of success. 
All of the revellers had enthusiastically trooped along, effusively as- 
suring Hazelton as they went that they were bound to stay by him to 
the end. 

The captain of the Southern Cross, after all the changes and 
chances of years of service upon the seas, had thought himself pre- 
pared for the wildest vagaries possible on the part of those who 
travelled in his charge, but he was fairly stricken dumb by the demand 
of this deputation. It took the united efforts of them all to make the 
matter clear to him. 

“ And am I to understand that you are come with the consent 
and authority of the young lady?” he at length demanded, his large 
weather-beaten hand slowly stroking away the creases of laughter that 
vaguely quivered in the midst of the bushy hair that heavily clothed 
the lower part of his face, while his portentous frown was belied by the 
jolly twinkle in his sharp gray eyes. 

A blank dismay fell upon the faces of the befuddled party as it 
dawned upon them that a somewhat important preliminary had been 
overlooked ; but Dick Hazelton, secure in the boundless possession of 
boozy confidence, promptly rose to the occasion. 

“ Thash all right, cap’n ; want to s’prise ’er,” his explanation put 
somewhat out of joint by reason of his pitching headforemost into the 
captain’s bed, as the ship rolled, whence he was with some difficulty 
extricated by his companions and set upon his legs again, his equa- 
nimity, however, in no wise ruffled by the circumstance. “ Betty’ll 
say ‘yesh’ fas’ ’nough. All the girls say ‘yesh’ to me. Might have 
beaten Brigham Young all to pieces ’f I’d had a mind to. Moral 
scruples, you und’stand. Always been water-logged ’ith moral scru- 
ples, you und’stand, cap’n,” with considerable effort screwing an eye 
into a wink, the effect of which upon his countenance was simply dia- 
bolical. “Oh, Betty ’sh all right, cap’n, you bet. The girls all cry 
for me.” 

A jelly-like quiver passed over the captain’s stalwart form, and his 
hand palpably shook as it went on slowly wiping down his beard. 
“ Well, you can hardly expect me to admire their taste at this junc- 
ture,” he dryly observed. “ And with regard to the lady, you will 
allow me to suggest, Mr. Hazelton, that she might prefer to speak for 
herself in a case like this : it is generally admitted a lady’s privilege. 
And — there must always be an exception to prove a rule, you know — 
it is barely possible, my fine fellow, that you may some time find your- 
self a victim of misplaced confidence in respect to a lady’s ‘yes ;’ such 
things have happened, thank the Lord ! If men only knew when 
they were well off they would offer up thanksgiving when they are 


62 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


balked of making fools of themselves for life by a woman’s 1 no/ 
However, that is not the point at present,” dismounting from his 
hobby with a jerk, his hand still heavily stroking the creases from his 
face. “ You asked me, gentlemen, if I would perform the marriage 
service on board this ship this evening. Allow me most emphatically 
to refuse, both for now and for all time. It is true that I have the 
necessary authority,” as a vague motion of protest seemed to stir the 
company, — “just as true as that I have the power to order you all put 
in irons if you should happen to get yourselves drunk and raise any 
disturbance on board ship,” with a pause of dark significance ; “ but I 
have never had part nor parcel in matrimony up to date, and, please 
God, I shall keep my conscience clear of it until I haul in sails for 
good. As for you, Mr. Hazelton, if you should presume to speak to 
the lady in your present condition, I feel bound to tell you that 
you would not only inevitably ruin your chances with the girl, but 
I should certainly consider it my duty to make you go down on your 
marrow-bones and beg her pardon just as soon as you sobered up. 
And, gentlemen, a joke is a joke, but this thing has gone far enough. 
I don’t want to use any coercion, but I want to advise — and I trust 
that you are all paying attention, for I mean it ! — I want to advise, in 
a friendly way, that you all go below now, and sleep it off 7” 

The whist-party in the captain’s room had been broken up a little 
time before the advent of the deputation upon their sentimental errand, 
and if, in the safe confines of her own state-room, Betty’s small ears 
burned that afternoon, she naturally could not have imagined what 
occasion there was for it ; but Rupert, returning a little later, heard the 
tale. 

“Just waltzed in here as cool as a cucumber, half the ship’s com- 
pany at his heels, and all as drunk as lords,” gasped the captain, 
wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, “ and asked me to splice ’em ! — 
damme if he didn’t! And he had never troubled himself to ask the 
girl first ! — said he wanted to surprise her ! Did you ever listen to 
anything in your life equal to that? Gad, sir, I thought one while, 
in my effort to hold in my laughter and maintain discipline, that I 
should simply burst in their faces and my remains would scatter all 
over the ship. It was tough, — mighty tough !” laying back his head 
in a roar of fresh enjoyment. “ And that fellow has got sand, now I 
tell you, Rupert,” reverting to Hazelton’s audacity with something 
almost of admiration in his tone: “he could fairly advertise sand to 
sell.” 

“ Well, yes, if you want to call it that,” retorted Rupert, with a 
sort of ominous calm. “ Where is he now?” 

“Oh, he’s all right; safely packed up in his little bunk and sleep- 
ing the sleep of the just, — with his boots and hat on ! I sent my boy 
below to have an eye on the whole outfit in case they were disposed to 
make any racket.” 

Rupert sat uncomfortably on the edge of the narrow divan that ran 
under the window on the port side of the room, moodily meeting the 
finger-tips of either hand together. “ In heaven’s name, what can I 
do ?” he burst out angrily, after a long study. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


63 


“ Do ? why, man alive, laugh at a joke when you hear one ! — 
there is nothing better that you can do. 

Laugh at all things, 

Great and small things, 

• Sick or well, on sea or shore. 

While we’re quaffing, 

Let’s have laughing : 

Who the devil cares for more ?” 



reciting the verse with a rollicking enjoyment. The captain always 
experienced a buoyant revival of spirits when the end of a voyage 

was near. “ Byron never put up a 
neater bit of advice than that, to my 
thinking,” he complacently 
added. 

“ Oh, hang Byron !” in 
keen exas- 
peration. “ I 
can’t help 
having a 
sense of re- 


‘‘ AND— THAT POOR CHILD!" 


sponsibility about the child to a certain extent, you know,” he added, 
rather more temperately. 

“ To a certain extent — well, I should say so ! Atlas with his world 
could hardly have been more weighted down with a sense of respon- 
sibility than you, old man. And, after all, why should you fash 
yourself? The child is unmarried and altogether unharmed. I said 
‘ No !’ — with a capital N, and an exclamation-point after it, now I tell 
you. It was the first time in my experience that I was ever permitted 
to bear a hand in refusing an offer of marriage, and I made the most 
of the opportunity,” with a new laugh for his experience. 

“ Unharmed ! — and the talk of the ship at this moment! All the 
women were giggling and exclaiming and wagging their heads together 


64 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


as I came through the saloon a moment ago. I wondered then what 
was up ; I know now ! And — that poor child !” with a gesture of 
angry despair. 

“ Pshaw, man, you’re making a mountain out of a mole-hill,” with 
brusque good humor, between vigorous puffs at his cigar. “ The 
women are talking, of course ; they have to : when they stop talking 
they die. But what does. it all come to? This palm-leaf fan held up 
in front of my face appears large enough to cover the earth ; and it is a 
good deal so with things on shipboard. It is a small edition of the 
life of a country village. Things don’t show in good perspective when, 
the view is so contracted. There are so few happenings to vary a fair 
voyage that small events loom up into vast proportions. It is so 
always: I have watched the play a hundred times, with merely a 
change of actors. Every trip the world narrows down to the length 
of the ship; and a booby perched on the maintop will make more talk 
than an Indian outbreak would on land. But, bless you, people don’t 
talk of one thing forever ; and you can take my word for it, once these 
folks are ashore again they will have plenty to distract their minds 
from any of Dick Hazelton’s eccentricities.” 

“ Eccentricities !” ejaculated Rupert, explosively. “ Eccentricities 
be damned !” 

The captain smoked on, placidly unmoved, having in fact a reper- 
toire of profanity at his own tongue’s end beside which the other’s 
petulant outburst might well have seemed rather insipid and altogether 
innocuous. “ I hope you will mind and not tread on my toes,” he 
imperturbably suggested, at which hint Rupert, who had been pacing 
savagely back and forth in the narrow quarters, had the grace to stop, 
staring abstractedly up at a text hung above the dressing-mirror, ad- 
monishing observers, in blue silk lettering wrought on perforated 
paper, to “ Look Aloft.” 

“ But don’t you see, Cornell,” he said at length, his eyes discon- 
tentedly reverting to his friend’s weather-beaten visage, turned upon 
him with a sort of sardonic sympathy in his discomfiture, “ this fellow 
would never have had the audacity — it could not have entered his 
head, drunk or sober, that he might marry the girl, unless she had 
given him some encouragement? — unless there had been some tender 
understanding between them? He must have had some reason to 
know that he might have her whenever he liked, even if, asjou say, 
he did not trouble himself with getting her consent before coming up 
here. The mere fact that he did not, indeed, proves to my mind how 
far the thing has gone.” 

“ H-m. He was pretty drunk,” the captain observed, tentatively. 

“ But he could not be drunk enough — no man could ! — to imagine 
that he might marry off-hand a girl like Betty Malcolm, — pretty and 
proud enough to grace a throne, — unless she had given him some 
ground for the conceit,” with grim certainty. He had crossed over to 
the table, and was nervously toying with the paper-weights, goodly 
lumps of lead sewed up with bold sailor stitches in covers of red 
flannel, bowling the ill-shaped disks in clumsy gyrations across the 
outspread chart. 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


65 


“Do you think so?” with comfortable unconcern. “Well, it may 
be. He seems to have it pretty much his own way where women are 
concerned. It would be rather a pity, though,” thoughtfully knocking 
an inch or so of ash from his cigar. “ The girl is too good for him.” 

“Too good 1” with savage sarcasm, pausing with one of the heavy 
weights in his hand as if he might almost have hurled it in his wrath. 
“ Well, yes; I think she is too good for him,” a grim bitterness in his 
short laugh. 

“ But if she is settled upon it, you can’t do anything, you know,” 
went on the other, philosophically. “Women sometimes change their 
minds about doing a sensible thing, but I have never known one of 
them to be turned back from any foolishness on which she was bent. 
No doubt the little Betty thinks that it is her mission to reform him. 
It is astonishing what a fascination there seems to be for women in the 
idea of marrying good-looking reprobates to reform them. It seems 
to catch that romantic yearning for martyrdom that most of them have 
when they’re young; and then, I believe, they find a more solid delight 
in going against the wishes of all their friends and fighting to have 
their own way. There is that craving for antagonism about the sex 
that makes the whole of them Amazons at heart.” 

“ I suppose there would be no use in going near Hazelton as he is 
now,” observed Rupert, moving restlessly toward the door. 

“Well, I should say not,” with a grin for the idea. “You will 
have to confine your zeal to the young lady for the present. Of course 
you will feel bound to free your mind to her. I believe that I would 
myself were I in your place. Of course it will do no good, so far as 
she is concerned ; but it may relieve your feelings.” 

“Yes, I suppose I might as well put in my time baying at the 
moon; but I must have my little say just the same,” moodily lighting 
a fresh cigar. “ I doubt if I can say enough to salve over my con- 
science for not having put in my oar to more purpose before this.” 

“Oh, if it has come to that!” with his whimsical air of sage re- 
monstrance. “Get your conscience under discipline, Rupert, or there 
is no hope for you. An obstreperous conscience is as bad as a petted 
puppy. It is forever after you, — a regular nuisance. Train it as you 
would the puppy, if you want to have any peace of your life. Knock 
it around ; kick it out of the way when it comes bothering. A 
well-ordered conscience should be no more obtrusive than a healthy 
stomach.” 

“ I suppose that you practise what you preach,” with a listless 
smile, absently thrumming a tattoo on the table. 

“ Well,” with a comfortable grin, “ I have certainly tried to. In 
fact, I think that I must have made a success of it, it is so long since 
I have heard from ray conscience. I would not wonder if it were dead 
as a door-nail, in fact. Now I think of it, I don’t know but our con- 
sciences are like the noble red man in that particular : the only really 
good conscience is the dead one.” 

“But mine being alive and kicking,” as he restlessly rose again, 
“I feel that I must stop that poor girl from making a fool of herself; 
and” — with a rueful laugh — “ I wish you had the job, Cornell.” 

Vol. LI.— 5 


66 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


“Thanks,” dryly. “ I would not for the world deprive you of it. 
But take it easy, old man. Fall back on the faith that is in you. 
Some fellows call it Providence, others believe it fate, — all according 
as a man happens to have inherited more of the blood of saint or 
sinner ; but whatever name you give it, it is a good comfortable phi- 
losophy to say, ‘ Whatever is to be, will be/ and wash your hands of 
the consequences.” 

“ I am afraid that I am not very amiably disposed toward fate at 
the present juncture ; and I don’t feel as if I had much use for phi- 
losophy,” Rupert dispiritedly retorted, his smile altogether mirthless as 
he stepped out on deck. 

“No?” with a lusty whole-souled laugh, as the captain followed, 
briskly buttoning himself into the great-coat of natural seal-skin that 
reached to his heels : “ then my advice to you is — try bromide.” 


XI. 

“It is so exhilarating to be near the end of a voyage,” Betty 
remarked, glancing comfortably about, as they were finishing dinner. 
“ One might guess how near we are to San Francisco merely to look at 
the faces. Everybody seems fairly grinning from ear to ear.” 

“And are you glad to be so near the end of it?” Rupert hastily 
returned, with a furtive scowl at the assembled company, the meaning 
of whose smiles he but too clearly guessed. 

“ Glad !” with an eloquent pause, gazing dreamily into space, a 
happy smile curving her lips ; “ glad doesn’t begin to express it ! I 
could simply dance for joy.” 

“ Honesty may be the- best policy, but it is not always flattering,” 
with an effort at lightness. 

“Ah, but you know that the main events of a journey, after all, 
are the starting and arriving,” the girl laughingly protested : “ what 
goes between is merely incidental.” 

“ You are making it worse and worse,” his smile rather strained. 
“But I will forgive the reflection if — incidentally — you will give me 
this evening,” a certain stiff insistence in his voice that seemed combat- 
ing a possible refusal. 

“ Why, I should be delighted,” hesitatingly, a suggestion of pleased 
surprise in her face; “but the fact is, I believe that I am half engaged 
to walk with Mr. Hazelton after dinner,” glancing uncertainly down 
the length of tables to where Hazelton usually sat. 

“ I rather anticipated as much,” returned Rupert, hastily, a frown 
gathering between his eyes; “but ” 

“And was that why you ventured to ask me?” joyous, irrepres- 
sible mischief in her eves. “ As you say, honesty is not always flat- 
tering.” 

“It certainly did not stop my asking you,” he stoutly retorted, 
an inflexible determination in the glance of his steely eyes; “ but you 
cannot call the invitation for that reason unflattering, for I had not th§ 
remotest idea of letting you say ‘ no’ on that account.” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


67 


“No? had you not?” smiling up at him, a glow of appreciation 
in her eyes ; for, after all, there is nothing that can more compel a 
woman’s admiration than a masterful spirit in a man. “ Well, if Mr. 
Hazelton appears, I shall leave you to answer to him,” her tone con- 
ceding the point. 

“ Thauks,” with a grim smile. “ I shall be only too happy to 
settle the point with Mr. Hazelton.” 

“ And to-morrow morning we shall be there !” she exultantly ex- 
claimed when, a little later, they were walking the deck together in the 
gray of the early evening, overflowing delight in her tone, her glance, 
her very walk. “ The voyage has been pleasant, too, thanks to you 
all,” she pensively, half apologetically continued. “Do you know 
that it is the first time in my life that I ever went anywhere alone?— 
that is, without any of my own people? They have always kept me 
fairly packed in rose-leaves,” with a happy little laugh ; “ but this will 
be a lesson to them.” Rupert almost groaned aloud. A lesson to 
them indeed ! 

“ But I would not be afraid to go around the world alone now,” 
she complacently went on. “ But Corinne — my sister, you know — 
will nearly swoon away when she knows it. She is so painfully 
proper ; though she is the dearest girl in the world, after all. But she 
never had an erratic impulse in her life. You will like her,” the 
faintest possible emphasis on the pronoun : “she is just your style of 
a girl.” 

“ I did not know that I affected any particular style of girl,” he 
absently returned. 

“ She will have a lecture for Bruce for letting me come, — as if the 
poor boy could have stopped me ! And really, you know, Corinne 
should not complain. If I had been provided with a dozen chaperons 
I could scarcely have been watched over more pertinaciously than Mrs. 
Alton has managed to do by her own unaided efforts; now could I?” 
her irrepressible gayety rippling up in fresh laughter. “ Between you 
and me, I feel as if I had been almost killed with her gratuitous kind- 
ness. She has stuck by me like a shadow.” 

“ I wish that she had been the only shadow,” he brusquely re- 
torted. 

“ Heavens ! — speak of angels — there she is ! — and looking for us, 
without any question,” gasped the girl, gripping his arm closer, in a 
sudden panic. 

“ Then, in heaven’s name, let us go forward,” impetuously hurrying 
her toward that quarter. 

The lines of caste had been drawn very sharply on the decks of 
the Southern Cross. The forward deck was inexorably reserved to the 
steerage passengers. If these might not go aft to mingle at will with 
those who travelled first-class, neither should those more fortunate in- 
dividuals go forward to stare honest poverty out of countenance. Such 
was the edict of the autocrat who ruled that little floating world ; and 
thus, the scantily-clad folk, mostly Chinamen, who might have been 
there, now huddled below for warmth, the place was bare save of those 
whoni duty held there, Rupert, for his many voyages and the cap- 


68 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


tain’s friendship, had become a privileged person on board, and the 
officer of the deck but nodded a pleasant greeting as they passed him by, 
while the lookout, politely touching his hat, accommodatingly stepped 
one side, fairly out of ear-shot, to make room for them in the bow. 

“ How lovely !” cried Betty, enthusiastically, leaning over the side. 
It had grown dark, and like rivers of silvery flame were the mighty 
billows all alive with the soft glow of phosphorus, that the great prow 
was throwing back on either side. There was a hoarse murmur as of 
protest from the troubled waters, as if perhaps the dead men lying in 
rotting hulks below cried out to have their sleep disturbed ; and wind 
and wave were moaning together, as if voicing that bondage of eternal 
unrest in which all nature frets. 

The girl was awed into silence for a moment; but her joyous spirit 
could not be long repressed. “Why don’t you say something?” she 
presently demanded, with smiling sociability, leaning comfortably back 
against a great bundle of sail. 

“ Perhaps because I can think of nothing agreeable to say. May I 
smoke ?” 

“ Of course,” solicitously watching the flickering match held be- 
tween his sheltering hands. “Oh,” restrospectively, after a moment, 
“you said you wished that I had had nothing but Mrs. Alton’s society 
on the trip. Now, don’t you think that that is a little ungenerous?” 
smiling broadly. “ What have I ever done to you?” 

“ I do not put it quite that way ; and what I meant was,” speaking 
with some difficulty, “ I wish that you had had less to do with that 
fellow Hazelton, Miss Malcolm.” 

“Yes?” nonchalantly smiling still, but with a certain dangerous 
quality in her soft voice. “And what has Mr. Hazelton done to you?” 

“ To me, nothing. But I have never approved of the man, as I 
think my manner must have given you plainly to understand. And I 
have found it very hard, I must say, Miss Malcolm, to understand the 
interest that you have shown in him.” 

“Have I shown an interest, do you think?” with innocent sang- 
froid. “ Now, do you know, I fancied that I had been letting con- 
cealment prey on the damask of my cheek in the most approved fash- 
ion ? — though perhaps, when you come to think, there may not be 
much damask about it,” passing a slim bare hand experimentally over 
her face, quite evidently stroking away creases of laughter from the 
pretty mouth. 

“ What in the name of Providence you could see in the man is 
more than I can imagine,” pursued Rupert, warmly, stung to sudden 
anger by her flippant tone. “ The reputation that he had at Panama 
you must have known ; the open immorality of his life ; the disgraceful 
circumstances of his leaving there ; the ” 

“And what were those disgraceful circumstances, may I ask?” the 
girl coolly interrupted. 

“ Well, to tell the truth, I do not know,” faltered Rupert, feeling 
decidedly flat. 

“Ah! you don’t know!” with a stinging laugh. “And yet you 
assumed to use the word disgraceful !” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


69 


“ Certainly I did ; and for the very ample reason that it was your 
brother who intimated to me that the circumstances were disgraceful.” 

“ Well, that does settle it!” her ready temper evidently well up in 
arms. “ When did Bruce Malcolm ever go hinting or intimating 
anything in all his life? He is simply incapable of it! We are not 
given to beating about the bush in our family ; we do not go attack- 
ing people with hints and innuendoes behind their backs. We would 
not know how to go about it. When we have anything to say, we say 
it in good honest English.” 

“ And do you mean to imply that I am lying about it ?” in a 
choked voice. 

“Lying?” airily; “oh, no; that is an ugly word. I merely mean 
to imply that you were mistaken in what my brother said to you, Mr. 
Rupert.” 

“ Oh ! if you only knew !” poor Rupert groaned, despairingly. 
Now that the time was come for him to speak, seeing how far he had 
already angered her, it seemed to him that he could as easily have 
lifted his hand to strike as to reveal to her in all its noisome details 
the real character of the man with whom her name might thenceforth 
be inextricably entangled in the gossip of a hundred mischievous 
tongues, to tell her the humiliating story of that afternoon. 

“ I know this,” the girl burst out, with angry vehemence, “ that 
you have disliked me from the first. Ah, do you suppose that I did 
not know — that I could have helped knowing — that you would as lief 
have been hung as to have gotten me upon your hands for this trip? 
And I liked you so much, too, that first evening at Panama,” with des- 
perate, angry candor. “ I even flattered myself that, given the oppor- 
tunity, I could make you like me too, — fool that I was !” 

“ You thought that you could make me like you ?” he mechanically 
repeated, throwing his cigar overboard and staring to watch its small 
spark quenched in the shimmering glow of the water. 

“It is incredible, is it not?” with a brief laugh of angry bitter- 
ness. “ But my conceit even went so far that I thought I was suc- 
ceeding, up to that day at La Libertad. You were kind to me even 
then,” her voice softening somewhat at the memory, but gathering fresh 
indignation as she proceeded, “but how ready you were to turn me over 
to Mr. Hazelton the moment opportunity offered !” 

“How do you know I was ready?” his breath fanning her cheek 
hotly. “ Hazelton came to me and said that you wanted to go back to 
the ship, — that you had a headache. What was there for me to do but 
acquiesce ?” 

“He said that?” incredulously, drawing a long breath. “Well, 
and if he did ! You might have come and asked me yourself. You 
should have known that I did not send him,” with uncompromising 
wrath. “ I have never forgiven you for it.” 

“Have you not?” in a stupid, dazed tone, looking down at her 
strangely. 

“ I have tried — it has been my one thought — to be pleasant and 
friendly ; but it has lessened my self-respect to receive such grudging 
civilities. In a thousand ways you have let me see what a bore it was 


70 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


to you. Yet, when in very self-defence I accept the gratuitous kind- 
nesses of another man, you sulk and frown and treat me as if I were a 
naughty child ; and now our last evening together you must spoil with 
vituperation and abuse. It is like a very dog in the manger !” She 
had worked herself up to such a pitch of hysterical anger that now she 
broke down utterly in a sudden storm of weeping. 

Tears are simple things, — merely a little phosphate of lime, some 
chloride of sodium, and the rest but water. All the heart-pains and 
bitterness that cry out in them count for absolutely nothing in a scien- 
tific analysis ; and yet, for that subtle quality beyond the prying reach 
of science, the tears of women have moved the world. As if in those 
angry drops had shone a light from heaven to reveal to him the un- 
guessed secret of his heart, Rupert stood dumbly staring at her, so 
shaken that he could not speak, trembling with sudden consciousness 
of a love such as he had never dreamed of, the tumultuous outpouring 
of all the pent-up passion of his loveless life. The wind caught up an 
end of the lace scarf that was wound about her head, full of faint 
delicious perfume, and tossed it across his face. It seemed to touch 
him like a caress, and he put up a trembling hand to hold it a moment 
longer against his lips ; and then, obeying a strange mad impulse, 
never known in his life before, he reached out and drew her to him in 
a close, passionate embrace. 

“ Sweet, sweet, can you ever forgive me ?” he whispered, brokenly, 
between wild, clinging kisses. 

“ How dare you ?” she muttered, furiously, wrenching herself 
from his grasp. Carried along by the madness of the moment, he 
had been scarce conscious of his daring, but now he seemed to be 
sinking down, utterly crushed, beneath a sickening sense of defeat 
and shame. 

“ Here ! take my arm,” he hoarsely exclaimed, hurrying after her. 
“ Oh, you need not be afraid ; you are perfectly safe,” he bitterly 
added, as she seemed to hesitate ; and she silently, grudgingly, rested 
the tips of her fingers on the arm he offered. 

“ I don’t know what I can say for myself,” he said, in a choked 
voice, as they walked along the deck, “ for this- — the second time ! 
There is nothing to be said, indeed, but — I love you.” It seemed to 
him that he could hear the beating of his heart above the surging of 
the waves, the throbbing of the engine. It seemed to make a ringing 
in his ears, to be suffocating him. 

“Well, really!” the girl reluctantly returned, anger still in her 
voice; “you surprise me. Certainly you have not worn your heart 
upon your sleeve, milord.” This with a cruel touch of sarcasm. 

“ And is it not as well that I did not?” savagely. “ What possible 
difference could it have made to you, beyond another scalp to hang at 
your belt? I should not have told you now, — why should I, indeed ? 
— what could I hope to gain by it? — but I went mad for a moment, 
and then ” drawing a sharp breath, “ then I felt that an explana- 

tion was due you. That is all,” with an air half sad, half haughty. 
“I am asking for nothing, you understand. I only want to explain, 
to apologize, as best I can, for ” 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


71 


“ Oh, here you are !” interposed the voice he most hated, as Mrs. 
Alton pounced upon them out of the shadows. “ Why did you not 
wait' for me? I have been hunting high and low for you. I have the 
most ridiculous thing to tell you,” panting with eagerness. “ You will 
not believe it, Betty Malcolm; now, positively you will not, — unless 
you have heard it before,” her face falling at this possibility. 

“ I cannot tell until I hear what it is,” returned the girl, wearily ; 
while Rupert, his face pale and rigid, stood staring with such unholy 
wrath as might have glowed in Balaam’s eyes when the ass was moved 
to disconcerting performance on the road to the land of Moab. 

“ Well, everybody is saying that you were to have been mar- 
ried to Dick Hazelton,” in a sharp crescendo, “ this very evening, — 
the captain was to marry you, — if he had not — that is, if Mr. 
Hazelton had not ” growing altogether incoherent with excite- 

ment. 

The girl calmly reached up and drew the collar of her ulster a little 
higher, as if she were cold, absently feeling the buttons as though she 
would have drawn the garment closer about her. “ I was to have been 
married to Mr. Hazelton ! — the captain was to have married me ! 
Well, really !” her contemptuous little laugh sounding in Rupert’s alert 
ears rather strained and overdone; “have you all gone daft, Mrs. 
Alton ?” 

“ But they say that it came from Hazelton himself,” protested the 
bearer of the tale, considerably disappointed at the mild effect of her 
news. “It appears that he has been drinking — I told you that he 
drank, but you would not believe me!” with rather vicious triumph, 
this; “but now they say that he is — er — well, just awfully — drunk,” 
fetching out the objectionable word with some difficulty. “ And, being 
perfectly maudlin, they say, he has been telling everybody on board 
that he was going to marry you ; and it is absolutely certain that he 
went to the captain and asked him to perform the ceremony to-night. 
Everybody is laughing about it.” 

“Yes?” nonchalantly. Rupert, watching her face with a sort of 
savage curiosity, could not detect in her any emotion whatever beyond 
the most cursory amusement. “ How very cheerful for everybody ! 
They should extend a vote of thanks to Mr. Hazelton,” she said, with 
a careless smile. 

“Of course I knew there was nothing whatever in it so far as you 
were concerned,” rather helplessly, a good deal taken aback at the girl’s 
sang-froid. “ I told everybody so. But there are some who are in- 
sisting that you are really engaged to him, — that you might really have 
married him to-night if he had not — well, if he had not had to be put 
to bed, you know.” 

“ Marry him ! Well, upon my word !” her clear laugh musically 
rippling with fun. “ There will be a gentleman waiting on the wharf 
at San Francisco to-morrow morning who might object, rather, — a 
gentleman who has come across from Boston to meet me, — the gentle- 
man to whom I happen to be engaged.” 

For an instant the booming and whistling of the wind among sails 
and rigging, and the heavy beating of the ship’s screw, had it all to 


72 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


themselves ; but Mrs. Alton could not be stunned into silence long. 
“ Engaged !” flying at the girl with a gurgle of fresh excitement. 
“ Engaged ! — and did not tell me ! You dreadful child !” 

“ You !” a certain biting emphasis at last betraying the fire within 
which Rupert had learned to know so well. “ And why should I have 
told you, pray ? I am not in the habit of pro- 
claiming my affairs from the house-tops without 
reason. And I must ask you to excuse me now : 

was just going below. Mr. Rupert ” 

peremptorily laying her hand upon his 
arm ; and a moment later the surprised and 
discomfited widow was left alone. 

“ And is that all true?” demanded the 
girl , breathing hard , when 
they were down on the 
lower deck. 



“MARRY HIM! WELL, UPON MY WORD!” 


“ I am afraid that it is,” he said, slowlv, reluctantly. 

“ And he is ?” with a shudder of disgust, leaving the word 

unsaid. 

“ Yes,” he lifelessly answered. 

“And has he been really talking that way?” pitifully staring 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


73 


up at him in gathering excitement. “ And did he actually go to the 
captain, as she said ? — and is everybody laughing about it ?” 

“ Yes,” impassively. 

“ Oh !” sharply drawing in her breath, her hands angrily clinched. 
“ How could he? — the brute ! the villain !” 

“Yes,” he said again, dully, uncomprehendingly. “And was that 
other true ? — that you are engaged ?” 

“ Yes,” she said in turn, hesitating, gently, pitifully. “ I have 
been engaged for months, and,” with a certain proud loyalty, “to 
one of the dearest and best fellows in the world.” 

“ And you never cared for Hazelton at all ?” he went on, stupidly, 
as if he scarce could understand it. 

“ Never for an instant, — in that way. How could I ?” 

“ We have all been mistaken,” he said, slowly, passing his hand 
across his eyes in a bewildered way. “I don’t know,” he added, with 
a mirthless smile, “ but I am almost sorry for the poor devil now.” 

“For him — ah!” unspeakable contempt in her tones. “He has 
already consoled himself!” 

“And how am I to console myself, Betty?” he said, deliberately, 
the sadness of tears in his voice. 

“Oh, I have been unjust to you ! — cruel to you!” burst out the 
girl, with a sudden keenness of self-reproach. “ I don’t wonder you 
hated me.” 

“ But I have told you that I do not — hate you,” with a sharp catch 
in his utterance. “ You know now that that was impossible.” 

“ But one of these days you will be glad of this ; you will see that 
it is for the best,” she murmured, gently, in eager effort to be kind and 
consolatory. 

“Are you so sure?” with listless scepticism. “I did not expect 
anything; I did not ask for anything: I have no right to feel dis- 
appointed, have I ?” with a wan smile. “ But you must not expect too 
much of me.” 

“ But we could not have been happy together,” she urged, with 
gentle conviction. “ You regard me simply as a somewhat precocious 
child ; just now, perhaps ” 

“ A very sweet child, Betty,” he interposed, softly, his glance burn- 
ing upon her face. 

“ But only a child !” triumphantly. “ It could hardly have entered 
your mind to look up to me in any sense ; it might even have seemed 
to you absurd that only ninety-four pounds of womanhood should pre- 
sume to ask anything more. But you must know that every woman 
expects, once in her life, to be regarded as a goddess. She may realize 
perfectly well the absurdity of it; she may know beyond any delusions 
of vanity how very human she is ; but,” her face glowing with en- 
thusiasm, her eyes like stars in the soft light, “once in her life she 
expects to be seen through a glamour that shall make all her faults seem 
charms, all her dulness the purest wisdom. And it is this ideal held 
up before her, the dream of what she might be, the reaching up after 
it lest she may fall in her lover’s eyes, that sweetens a woman’s life as 
nothing else can, that ripens all the good that is in her. I can hardly 


74 


A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER. 


express 

making 


what is in my mind about it ; I am afraid that I am not 
my meaning very clear,” halting rather embarrassedly, con- 
scious that in the inspiration of her 
theme she had for a moment almost 
forgotten his existence. 

“ You are only making it clear to 
me that I am very much out 
of luck,” he returned, gently, 
with a sorry smile. “ But 
don’t fret yourself about it, 
little girl. You don’t al- 
together understand me, I 
think ; but there is no par- 
ticular reason why you 
should ; and it does not 
matter.” 

“ But we are 
friends ?” in anx- 
ious questioning, 
impulsively tak- 
ing his cold hand 
in the warm ca- 
ressing pressure 
of both her own. 

“Always, 
Betty,” his grasp 
closing convul- 
sively upon hers for a moment before he left her, while to her awed 
heart was revealed that to her had been given that rarest of all life’s 
good gifts, a friend who would never change. 

And so, in gentle sadness, closed another of earth’s brief chapters. 
And on through the darkness, moaning and trembling like a human 
life grown old under its burdens, the good ship plunged heavily on- 
ward, reaching toward the Golden Gate that should mark the end of 
a tale that was told, and at the same time a preface to many a new 
volume in the possibilities that lay beyond. 



‘ BUT WE ARE FRIENDS?” 



A SPANISH PAINTER. 


75 


A SPANISH PAINTER. 



AD RID, notwithstanding her 
reputation as the capital of a 
country which has always been 
foremost in honoring great 
men, more particularly those 
celebrated in the art of paint-, 
ing, does not impress the 
tourist to-day as a city with 
any particular art prejudices. 
Modern Spanish art in gen- 
eral is disappointing: it is crude in color, brutal in technique, and 
theatric in design, and stands in strong contrast to the genuine charac- 
ter of such of her masters as Coello, Greco, Moro, Murillo, Ribera, and 
others of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries with which the galleries 
abound, and to the specimens of the Italian, Flemish, Dutch, and 
German Renaissance, which are also represented, Peter Paul Rubens 
covering a large space, as usual. It seems strange, when one remem- 
bers that these galleries are acknowledged to be among the most inter- 
esting in the world, that so few Spaniards have profited by their ad- 
vantages; for to the amateur polishing the rough edges of his taste, or 
to the student absorbing the methods of the masters, the works of 
Velasquez alone speak with more purpose than those of any other one 
man in the history of art, and Madrid therefore becomes, — to the latter 
especially, — as does the holy city of the East to the wandering Arab, 
the most sacred shrine of all his pilgrimage. 

The Museo del Prado was not built for the display of paintings, 
but for a museum of curios, so that, save in the middle gallery, which 
is arched with a skylighting, the pictures are not seen to advantage, all 
of the side galleries or rooms being lit by windows only. The building 
itself is, however, handsome and imposing. A large double stairway 
leads to a Doric porch, from which one enters a polygonal rotunda. 
Here are hung a number of works by Veronese and Ribera. Opening 
from this rotunda, and from the corresponding “ patio” at the other end 


76 


A SPANISH PAINTER. 


of tne building, are smaller galleries, containing heterogeneous collec- 
tions of foreign schools. But it is in the long centre gallery that we 
find most of the great pictures, — Titian’s “ Charles V. on horse- 



C C CooHr 


MENIPPUS. 

back,” Murillo’s “Immaculate Conception,” and the “ Menippus,” 
the “iEsopus,” the portraits of Philip, and “The Surrender of 
Breda,” by Velasquez. 

The Museo fronts on the Salon del Prado, a broad boulevard 
planted with trees and resembling somewhat the Champs-ElysSes at 


A SPANISH PA INTER. 


77 


Paris. Strolling under the shade of these trees, one can easily 
realize the inspiration which moved the master in the long, dark, 
handsome faces, spotless complexions, and clear eyes of the men and 
women one meets ; for, though many noble works by contemporaries 
adorn the walls of this famous gallery, they all stand relative and sub- 
ordinate in merit to those of one, — Don 
Diego Rodriguez de Silva y Velasquez. 

Philip the Fourth, save perhaps as in- 
cluded in the list of monarchs droned in 
unison by school-children, is probably 
less known than the man whom he ap- 
pointed his court painter. Yet he should 
receive due praise for his share in de- 
veloping this great talent, and the world 
will always have a great respect for this 
silent taciturn gentleman who filled his 
halls with the works of, and gathered 
about him as companions, the genius of 
his nation. We owe him much for his 
share in the refinement of humanity by 
his intelligent recognition and encouragement of the arts. It does 
not often fall to the lot of an artist to hold such an office under such a 
king, nor to have for his models the grace, the beauty, and the dignity 
of a court and a people proverbial for these qualities ; but if Velas- 
quez was to be congratulated in being honored, how much the more 
Philip in having the opportunity to honor ! 

The critic, in speaking of Velasquez, dwells much on the various 
methods in which he painted ; but to the student he appears only as 
progressing always toward a greater perfection, never at any time drop- 
ping the thread he has taken up at the beginning, but following it 
step by step, until at last there seems scarcely anything to be desired, 
so complete are his later works. Velasquez was a painter of portraits, 
a delineator of souls : his personages are living and human. When he 
undertakes, as he did after his second visit to Italy, to emulate the re- 
ligious sentiment of that school, he instantly is at a loss: one feels 
immediately his lack of sympathy with the subject ; and, while his 
“ Crucifixion” and “ Coronation” may be not unworthy of his name, 
it is with such direct presentations as the head of Philip IV. and the 
Portrait of a Sculptor that we feel his real power : these are sentient 
beings, to whom, with a brush charged in the elixir of life, he gave a 
respite which shall last until the inevitable swing of the pendulum 
fades the colors and rots the canvas away. 

Occasionally in his work one fancies there can be detected the in- 
fluence of contemporaries, but it is seldom to a very pronounced extent, 
and never observable twice from the same source. His picture “ The 
Topers” (“ Los Borrachos”) is said to bear a resemblance to the style 
of Rubens. Speaking of this in his admirable life of Velasquez, M. 
Paul Lefort, Inspector of the Beaux-Arts at Paris, says, “ Nothing, then, 
is so arbitrary and inexact as that assertion, so easily accepted and fre- 
quently reiterated, that the picture of the ‘ Borrachos’ bears imprinted 



A PORTRAIT OF VELASQUEZ. 


78 


A SPANISH PAINTER. 


upon it the styles and methods of Rubens. Neither in style, nor in the 
construction, nor in the technique, still less in the choice of color and 
maintenance and arrangement of tones, do we find a possible resem- 
blance. In truth, this picture, so naively realistic and formal, is pre- 
cisely to the art of Rubens what positivism is to metaphysics.” 

In his earlier work we have a certain dryness of handling which 



THE TOPERS. 


disappears completely later on. The celebrated portrait “ L’Homme 
an Gant” technically bears scarcely any resemblance to his Portrait of 
a Sculptor, so tight and hard is the former in comparison ; yet both have 
that wonderful quality which leads us to think of them rather as men 
than as the painted semblances. This is so with all of his portraits. 
These men and women breathe the air about us ; they stand, not inside 
the frames, but in the room with us ; they are as distinct of person- 
ality as our friends and neighbors. They become so intimately asso- 
ciated with our thoughts, so distinct in their individuality, that we 
almost fancy Philip must be aware of our homage and will some 
day graciously recognize us. 

There may have been greater artists, men more subtle in their art, 
who have preached more effectually the sermon of the hour or ma- 
terialized better the idealities of religion; but no one seems to have 
been able “ to hold the mirror up to nature” as did Velasquez. 

As a painter of portraits he does not find his equal either in Rem- 
brandt, Van Dyck, Franz Hals, or any of the Netherlanders, — for it 
is with their school that he was most in sympathy, — and, since a com- 
parison arises, we can at no time accuse him of any of those affectations 
of color for which Rembrandt was known: simple, direct, and always 
dignified, — never, to be sure, attempting difficult feats of light and 
shade, — but never, either, suggesting in his color the use of stained 
glass, as does the Hollander. 

His aim was to be a faithful interpreter. He was essentially a 
realist : the ideal to him was in human souls, and humanity looks down 
at you through the eyes of these wonderful creations. We have every 



A SPANISH PAINTER. 


79 


evidence both in his work and in his life of a sympathetic character, a 
heart in touch with other hearts. Philip the Fourth was a man of im- 
mobile countenance; we have him over and again from Velasquez’s 



jESOP. 


brush with that same supercilious, smileless expression which we are 
told never varied. With a versatility unexampled he paints the dwarfs : 
“ El Primo”— evidently learned in literature— seated turning the leaves 
of a book and bearing a comical expression of wisdom ; we feel that 


80 


A SPANISH PAINTER. 


this abbreviated person could make most intelligent speeches, withal 
cutting and sarcastic; El Nino, the idiot, with twisted neck and open 
mouth, — disgusting and revolting; El Bobo, the cringing sycophant, 
crafty and deceitful ; and Don Sebastian de Mora, full of ingenuous 
good humor. These four alone illustrate his mastery of facial expres- 
sion, his ability as a delineator of character. His children are childish, 
yet thoroughly aristocratic. The Infantas are very girlish, spite of 
their plumes and finery. It is not merely the ribbons and feathers and 
rosettes which give them the bearing of queens. Little Prince Baltasar 
appears as boyish as any gamin , yet always a prince. 

“ Menippus,” the beggar, is cunning, slovenly, and sly, while his 
“ iEsopus” is the direct antithesis, — a fine conception of the dignified 
old philosopher and satirist. 

Nor is Velasquez, notwithstanding the fact that he is pre-eminently 
a painter of portraits, unequal to great compositions. “ The Surrender 
of Breda” (“ Las Lanzas”) is not only a magnificently rendered group 
of portraits, but has also wonderful beauty of arrangement, and, while 
it may not reach the perfection of plein air effect attained by some of 
our nineteenth-century painters, yet its dignity is a charm which we 
often look in vain for in the work of to-day. We find this same 



THE TAPESTRY-WEAVERS. 


dignity in those other masterpieces, “ The Tapestry- Weavers” (“Las 
Hilanderas”) and “ The Maids of Honor” (“ Las Meninas”). The for- 
mer, which is perhaps more familiar to us, is probably the most realistic 
of any of his pictures, a work which, if we study it in relation to his 
contemporaries and the contemporaneous schools (and the period was 
one, too, which was fast breaking away from the bonds of the symbol- 
ism characterizing mediaeval art and that of the earlier renaissance), 
must lead us to recognize in Velasquez the true father of realism. 

The age, however, had not altogether freed itself from convention- 
alisms, and it is not remarkable, therefore, that there is in his pictures 
a formality which delights only when it is understood. For there is a 


A SPANISH PAINTER. 


81 


distinct charm in the conventional note, in the landscape backgrounds, 
which have the decorative character of a 
tapestry cartoon, and although the pony 
of little Prince Baltasar, and the horse 
of Philip in the equestrian portraits, are 
not conceived in the spirit of the hetero- 
dox movement as introduced to us 
through the scientific scrutiny of Mr. 

Muybridge, yet in both instances they 
are noble animals, bearing with pride 
their royal burdens and conscious of the 
blaze of jewelled armor and golden trap- 
pings with which they are bedecked. 

After all, a picture is but the repre- 
sentation of a thing, not an actuality : as 
one of our greatest modern painters has 
put it, “ not an imitation of reality, but a 
parallelism of Nature we do not want 

to see the figure breathe, but to fancy that it might breathe. And the 
artist is an important factor in our admiration of the work : we must 



MAID OF HONOK. 



PRINCE CARLOS. 


look at Nature through his eyes and learn to appreciate her by his 
methods. The picture, therefore, which is a transcript or attempts to 
Von. LI.— 6 


82 


HUMILITY. 


be a transcript of Nature loses its character as a work of art, because 
it becomes mere imitation. Consequently, this formality in the works 
of Velasquez not only gives distinction, not only shows us the per- 
sonality of the artist, but it also seems like a frank acknowledgment 
of the limit of human power, a line consciously or unconsciously drawn 
that we may be restrained from violating that precept of Moses’ tablet 
which tells us, “ Thou shalt not make unto thyself any graven image, 
or any likeness of any thing. . . . Thou shalt not bow down thyself 
to them nor serve them.” 

Colin Campbell Cooper. 


THE FOUNTAIN OF NEPTUNE, MADRID. 



HUMILITY. 

E NSAINTING all the visible world, the dim 
And reticent night upon the harvest lands 
In silent benediction lays its hands ; 

Curved as the chine of a great beast, the grim 
Hill heaves against the sky its shaggy rim ; — 

One of the nights when Jupiter commands 
Stars as the sea’s incalculable sands, 

Veiling their fires in fealty to him. 

Out of the shadow-land my spirit I send 
Into that giant scheme, if I may know 
The meaning and the majesty aright. 

In vain, alas ! I cannot comprehend, 

So turn me to the earth again, and, lo ! 

A glow-worm proffering its friendly light. 

In a Lillian Peterson. 


AN OLD-TIME PHILADELPHIAN. 


83 



CHARLES BIDDLE. 


AN OLD-TIME PHILADELPHIAN. 

C APTAIN CHARLES BIDDLE wrote out the events, impressions, 
and judgments of his life as a pastime in his old age, and with a 
view to the benefit of his immediate posterity only. In those days no 
Sunday paper or popular magazine took any unusual experience or 
startling opinions off one’s hands at so much a column, and writing a 
book was as solemn as dancing the minuet. That he was doing this 
probably never entered the good man’s mind. People then were frank, 
shrewd, and observing, and, being uneducated by popular editorials, 
usually formed their own opinions. This autobiography, rescued from 
oblivion and printed privately more than sixty years after the author’s 
death, is a window let in upon the most honest of souls. Raised early 
to a station of command, it probably never occurred to Captain Biddle 
in the whole course of his life not to speak his mind : he conceived 
only of the most straightforward methods, and he wrote with equal 
frankness.* 

Charles Biddle, born in Philadelphia in 1745, was the grandson of 


* This memoir had the honor of serving General Grant as model in his 
great work. 



84 


AN OLD-TIME PHILADELPHIAN. 


a rich man, one of the Proprietors of New Jersey ; but in those days 
endorsing and suretyship were little understood, but meant ruin, and 
William Biddle, his father, was the most unfortunate of men. He 
ended by leaving his heroic young wife in much the same circumstances 
as the widowed consort of John Rogers, the Martyr of Smithfield. 
Somehow the family struggled through. Every one of the sons became 
eminent. 

But Charles was a young scapegrace. This is his deliberate judg- 
ment : “ I believe the young people are not so bad as when I was a 
boy.” He and his friends would fire pistols close to people’s ears. 
Dark nights they would trip them up with ropes, knock baskets and 
tubs off their heads, and throw down cellar-doors. Even the college 
students of a generation ago did not behave worse. 

Unspeakable, then, must have been the relief of the older remon- 
strant brothers, James and Edward, when at fourteen, under fairly 
favorable auspices, this irrepressible youth was shipped for San Lucar, 
Spain. 

This was the initiation of his active life. The high spirits, the 
audacity, the activity, somewhat startling at home, now found their 
proper vent. Being absolutely devoid of fear, Charles did not mind 
being chased upon the voyage by what they took for a Spanish pirate. 
At Cadiz he saw a bull-fight, which he did not much enjoy when the 
novelty wore off, for he was good-hearted after all. He was taken very 
ill from too free indulgence in stolen grapes ; but Mr. William Seton, 
a young New York merchant, and Mr. Ferrier, nursed him. The 
latter thought barley-water good for all disorders. In this case he was 
certainly right. 

As medical science has advanced so much of late, it may not be 
malicious to observe that in those days some wonderful cures happened 
after medicines and physicians had given out. This was the gist of 
one of Dr. Franklin’s anecdotes, which comforted the fever-stricken 
inhabitants of Philadelphia when only the sick, those too poor to get 
away, and lawyers eager to make wills, remained in town. The Doctor, 
it may be observed, like President Lincoln, was wont to prelude business 
meetings by a little story. 

The next voyage was to Fayal. Then young Biddle became second 
mate, and sailed for Honduras and the West Indies, whither he after- 
wards went repeatedly. Before he was eighteen, he was offered the com- 
mand of a brig. Stirring adventure, quick decision, ready expedient, 
made up his life. It is a fascinating story. There were captures, ship- 
wrecks, and many a brawl and difficulty settled in the old hand-to-hand 
way. The regions of Central America are doomed to perpetual law- 
lessness ; and the boy captain became used to taking matters into his 
own hands. Even his failings made him redoubted. He was tremen- 
dously quick, both with word and blow, but his ideas of discipline took 
in himself as well as others. To the end of his life, we have every 
reason to suppose that he never doubted the efficacy of a timely flogging. 
When he was quite an old gentleman, his negro boy Virgil, locked up 
over-night, with dismal intimations as to the morrow, thought it prudent 
to run away. His master was extremely sorry he had deferred the 


AN OLD-TIME PHILADELPHIAN. 


85 


punishment. Still, he early resolved to cure himself of striking with 
anything he could lay his hands on, or “ heaving at any of the crew” 
that did not move briskly. The end of a rope, however, he decided 
could do no possible injury, and with this he resolved to be content. 
Cards he would not suffer when his ship was armed. Singing well he 
thought a snare ; it made a young man courted, and a double watch was 
needed to withstand dissipation. Exercise he considered good for sea- 
sickness, so on one occasion had the hand-pumps lashed to the main- 
top-mast, that all who needed water might get the benefit of climbing. 

Considering that losses were then borne by the owners, one wonders 
at the craft, “ leaky as baskets,” sent to sea. But in those days human 
life had not attained the value it has to-day. Now and then the story 
of some poor wretch executed for petty or supposititious offences makes 
a gruesome interlude. 

Captain Biddle had had some fifteen years of this sea-going life 
when the battle of Lexington became the event of the world. Here 
our hero flashes a tremendous side-light upon the situation. He knew 
where duty lay, and it was impossible not to follow it, but he had a very 
English nature. He was unswerving in friendship, and the luxury of 
a good hearty honest prejudice he never denied himself. The latter 
took full effect against the French, though he knew their language. 
Like hundreds of his countrymen, particularly of the better sort, he 
had more than a lingering fondness for the British, except one rascally 
officer who cheated him out of a large sum of money. En passant , he 
does not fail to note that very few respectable people gathered to hear 
the reading of the Declaration of Independence. Mrs. Deborah Logan, 
who heard the same from her father’s garden, northeast corner of Fifth 
and Library Streets, perfectly agreed with him. 

However, he served his country well. He went to France for 
powder and arms. On his return he joined Captain Co wperth waite’s 
company of Quaker infantry. All in his tent were fitted out with 
Shakespearian names, and he was Prince Hal. 

During a great part of the Revolution, Captain Biddle when on 
land resided at New-Berne, North Carolina, where, in 1778, he married 
Miss Hannah Shepard, who became the mother of his eight children. 
She seems to have been a woman of affectionate nature and intrepid 
soul. Here with heart and hand Captain Biddle again worked with 
the patriots. He had frequent business relations with Mr. Hodge, so 
excellent a Philadelphian that he clung to the not altogether antiquated 
notion that “ a man’s being born and brought up in Philadelphia was a 
sufficient recommendation.” Some privateering Captain Biddle essayed, 
but smuggling he always held in absolute abhorrence. 

In 1779, in a particularly old-fashioned way, Captain Biddle’s ser- 
vices were demanded for the Assembly of North Carolina. This was 
the beginning of his long term of public service. Sitting still and 
listening to eager, petty, endless debates, usually between the eastern 
and western members, was at first well-nigh intolerable. When he 
left the State, Governor Nash gave him a certificate for bravery and 
patriotism, which he was not ashamed to say he prized highly. 

In 1781, on a return voyage from the West Indies, a fatal fever 


86 


AN OLD-TIME PHILADELPHIAN. 


broke out on his ship, and eight days after they were taken by a 
British man-of-war, in spite of the poor sick fellows propped up on deck 
and dressed in old red-and-blue uniforms with intent to deceive the 
enemy. Captain Biddle has no special complaint to make of his treat- 
ment, though he contrasts the officers rather sharply with those with 
whom he had been wont to associate. 

In due time he was exchanged. He had now something of a 
family, and was tired of the sea, but urgent and tempting offers 
abounded, as he was now so high up in his profession. Now and then 
an odd or remarkable passenger, as Count Benyowsky, and some 
French ladies, enlivened the monotony of his voyages. 

In 1783, however, we find him maintaining his family by keeping 
a little store at Reading. Here again at the solicitations of his friends, 
for those were still primitive days, he became a candidate for the 
Supreme Executive Council, under the old constitution of Pennsyl- 
vania. 

He served with scrupulous fidelity, deeming it a wrong and mean 
thing ever to shirk a vote by absence. The odd thing is that it is 
almost impossible to tell which of the two great political parties had, 
in the main, his sympathies. In 1785 he was unanimously elected 
Vice-President : this he mentions with pardonable pride, considering 
his early hardships, his seafaring life, and that he was only forty. For 
a brief time he was chief magistrate of the State ; then Dr. Franklin, 
much broken in health, but shrewd, facetious, and genial, came in as 
President. 

In 1787 the Federal Constitution was formed. This Captain Bid- 
dle thought, from the character of the members of the Convention, the 
best instrument possible. No daily press then led people intelligently 
and wearily through the mazes of debate. The removing of the seat 
of government from Philadelphia he thought a pity. It came from 
irrepressible conflict between eastern and western members, the latter 
being treated by the city men with great contempt. 

Captain Biddle had a life-long friendship for Aaron Burr. He 
takes an unusual view of his conduct, and seems greatly to magnify 
Hamilton’s offence. However, he saw no way out of serious difficulty 
save duelling; consequently he did not see how Colonel Burr could 
have acted otherwise than he did. When the result made Burr odious, 
he still asked him to his house. This excited the anger of several of his 
friends. A report arising that people had come on from New York to 
apprehend Burr, Captain Biddle left his family in the country and 
came in to stay several nights with his friend. A curious petition 
from eleven United States Senators to Governor Bloomfield, for a 
stay of prosecution against Aaron Burr, was sent open to Captain 
Biddle, to be forwarded. All this was the more remarkable, because 
the captain, although they tried to make him vice-president of a Demo- 
cratic society, had certainly no ardent political affiliation with Burr. 

In 1808, with a few other prominent citizens, he endeavored to 
form a company for life-insurance, pensions, etc. McKean was then 
Governor. A German member spoke against the bill : “ Mr. Speaker, 
I am against dis bill, and I will tell you for what. If you bass dis 


AN OLD-TIME PHILADELPHIAN. 


87 


bill, old McKean will get his life insured, and we shall never get rid 
of him.” Nothing more could be done with it that session. 

The War of 1812 made manifest the political development of the 
people. Now all classes rallied in defence of a beloved and united 
country. After the burning of the Capitol, young and old were 
thoroughly roused. Captain Biddle was foremost in the committee of 
defence formed by the citizens of Philadelphia. Indeed, the latter 
part of his life was full of public employments. For several years he 
served as prothonotary of the Court of Common Pleas in Philadelphia, 
of which his brother James was judge. In 1810 he came out some 
hundreds ahead on the election for State Senator. Though an ignorant 
Irish tenant had inadvertently voted against his landlord, Captain 
Biddle comforted him with the assurance that his vote had not been 
needed. At this session his son Nicholas served in the lower house. 
At the anniversary meeting of the Cincinnati in 1811, he offered a 
resolution providing for the Washington Monument in Philadelphia. 
This was cast in Germany in 1883, and the site for its erection is at the 
present moment the subject of warm debate. In 1812 he was ap- 
pointed a commissioner to sign Treasury notes. As he had three sons 
in the service, he felt that he could not decline. He became expert 
enough to write his name eighteen hundred times in one day. 

Meantime he throve well materially. 

Onee in earlier life, being sent to sea in a specially bad vessel, the 
cargo of flour was so long out that it became full of weevils. This he 
put down as “ a disagreeable circumstance,” but adds, “ A man when * 
he finds himself in difficulties should never give way to them and 
make himself miserable by thinking he could have avoided them, but 
should act with firmness and do everything for the best.” In 1809, 
moving from the Market Street house, in which he had been opposite 
neighbor to General Washington during all the time when as President 
the latter had resided in Philadelphia, he bought the house whose site 
is now occupied by the Philadelphia Company for Insurance on Lives 
and Granting Annuities. He paid nine thousand one hundred dollars. 
Had it not been inadvertently run up by a friend, he would have got 
it for seven thousand five hundred dollars. However, the same cheer- 
ful philosophy stood by him. He remarked that it was cheap at the 
price, and, as he had made up his mind to go much higher, he did not 
care to get it for less. 

The removal from Market Street was associated with the saddest 
event in his life, the loss of his son Edward. “ It is,” he says, “ an ad- 
vantage to most people to leave a house after they have lost a relation 
or friend very dear to them.” Edward, in company with the brother, 
afterwards Commodore James Biddle, had sailed with Commodore 
Truxton in 1800. Edward never came home. Nothing in any lan- 
guage can exceed the tender account of the parting. Somewhere he 
had read, “The winds howl with peculiar horror to him whose off- 
spring is on the waves ; the beating tempest of a winter’s evening is 
painfully alarming to that parent whose social hearth seems forsaken 
through the absence of one that is at sea ;” and severe gales in the 
period of anxiety engraved this upon his heart. 


88 


GYPSIES AND THE POET. 


Quite early in life the death of his brother Edward, a very eminent 
lawyer, though only forty, had afflicted him severely, and later in life 
the untimely death of a lovely and favorite niece, Mrs. Lux ; but never, 
so we gather from these memoirs, had the “ ploughshare of deeper feel- 
ing” so torn down to his primitive rock. 

Indomitable in friendship, long after necessity for active exertion in 
his own behalf had ceased, he bestirred himself to get his unfortunate 
and obscured friend Commodore Truxton appointed deputy sheriff of 
Philadelphia. He enjoyed his iron constitution and the effect of his 
good habits to the last. Once only in all his life, this frankest of men 
tells us, was he overcome by liquor. It was at Fayal, and he was only 
seventeen. He made up his mind that such a plight “ renders a man 
unfit for anything,” and in his long life of seventy-five years it never 
occurred again. Very few men of his day had seen so much of France, 
Spain, and Portugal. He died in 1831, at No. 1108 Chestnut Street, 
whither he had removed in 1813. He was buried in ChristChurch 
graveyard with his sons, William, James, and Charles, and his 
daughter, Mrs. Ann Hopkinson. 

Elisabeth Ballister Bates. 


GYPSIES AND THE POET. 

C ROWS, ye who of the air are the tentless, vociferous gypsies ; 

Lyrical mocking- wren, poet most sweet of our birds ; 

I to you am affected more than the rest of our winged ones : 

Crows, for your free content; wren, for. your true love of song. 

Ah, what a gush of song that gladdened the air of October, 

Thrilling, melodious, clear, poured from the throat of the lyrist, 
Heard I this morn, rejoiced, as “ Sweetheart, sweet, sweet !” he repeated, 
Music that, ceasing anon, echoed all day in my heart ! 

Over my head were the crows, their way to some forage-ground wing- 
ing; 

“ Caw !” cried the leader, “ caw, caw !” “ Caw !” was passed down 
through the line : 

Them their strong pinions I envied, their keenness of vision, 

While the small meadow-lark near fluttered and trilled a faint song. 

Through the whole year both the crows and the wren are resident 
with us; 

I, too, a lover of home, like them the better for that : 

Daily almost I see those gypsies or hear their harsh voices ; 

Once at least, every month, glads me that singer’s sweet lay. 

W. L. Shoemaker. 


IN WAR-TIME. 


89 


IN WAR-TIME. 

T HE war brought with it so great a change in all social relations, 
such a “ sudden making of splendid names,” that it had almost 
obliterated what went before. 

Theodore Winthrop and Fitz- James O’Brien marched out of New 
York to give their young lives, so full of promise, to the cause of the 
stars and stripes. I saw the Seventh Regiment march down Fourth 
Street, Theodore Winthrop carrying the flag. Only four months later 
I looked out of my window to see a gun-carriage with wreaths of 
roses, and a coffin lashed on : in that coffin was his dead body. 

He was a blond, gentle-looking man, with a great air of patrician 
distinction. The few novels he has left show that he had gifts of a high 
order. 

Fitz-James O’Brien, the gifted, gay young Irish gentleman, who 
had spent all his money in London in two or three brief seasons, and 
who came over to America a regular Bohemian, had great social attrac- 
tion. He had made something of an impression in the drawing-rooms 
before his fine monody on Dr. Kane and his wonderful story of the 
Diamond Lens attracted attention. 

His wonderful genius would have perished in him, had he not been 
poor. He led a rather precarious and gypsy life until he enlisted. 
He showed fine qualities as a soldier, and was wounded in a hand-to- 
hand encounter with a Southerner at the second battle of Bull Run. 
While he lay suffering in a Southern hospital, he wrote the most 
enchanting paper on the view from his window. He was a hero to the 
last, and nothing in life became him like the leaving of it. No one 
since has ever written like him, exactly ; it was a delicate and fugitive 
genius, like that of Goldsmith. 

I saw all the great captains, but their record has been written by a 
thousand hands, so I will not dwell on the war-times or their heroes. 
It would be a threadbare theme. 

The Sanitary Commission was a great national educator, — it brought 
together all sorts of people from all over the country, — and the Metro- 
politan Fair was a most interesting event. 

Mr. Richard Grant White was the secretary of this great organiza- 
tion for the masculine side, and I was chosen secretary by the ladies. 
One can imagine how close and intense ’was my interest in it, and 
how many letters I received and answered. We took an empty 
house, No. 1, Bond Street, where we worked all winter, Mrs. David 
Lane being the active president under Mrs. Hamilton Fish, who was 
honorary President. For years I could never pass that corner without 
a sense of fatigue. 

All this brought me some noble letters from Motley, then minister 
to Vienna, and from George P. Marsh, minister to Rome, — valuable 
autographs in themselves, and accompanying more valuable ones, some 
of which were later on given to me by Dr. Bellows and George T. 


90 


IN WAR-TIME. 


Strong, Esq., who was the Secretary and Treasurer of the Sanitary 
Commission. I have them still, at least a dozen of Napoleon. 

We started off, a half-dozen ladies, with Dr. Bellows as our inspi- 
rator, in November, 1863, and on the 1st of June, 1864, we sent a 
check for one million three hundred and sixty-five thousand dollars to 
George T. Strong, the result of our earnings. 

1 find in looking over my note-books that I wrote over two thou- 
sand letters; and I can never forget the curious presents that were 
brought us. Ladies would take down from their library shelves choice 
editions of old books and beg of us to accept them to sell. Every- 
body gave of his best. It was most touching. I fear that in the great 
crowd and confusion of the Fair, which went on in two buildings (and 
there was a quarrel, as well as many heart-burnings), many of these 
poetic and noble offerings were lost, swallowed up, not appreciated ; but 
the Recording Angel put them in his Golden Book. 

I cannot do better than to copy from a well-known chronicler this 
general account of a patriotic event, all of which I saw and much of 
which I was: 

“ Within the last few years there have been many remarkable mili- 
tary processions in Broadway. The march of the Massachusetts Sixth 
Regiment on the 17th of April, 1861, was perhaps the most truly 
interesting; that of the Seventh New York on the 19th of the same 
month was the most exciting ; that of the Twentieth Regiment of 
United States colored troops in the early spring of this year was the 
most significant.” 

(I saw Colonel Robert G. Shaw’s handsome face at the head of this 
troop on that exciting day. Firm as a Greek statue, this noble boy 
went forth to die for his convictions, and I was one of many to read 
through my tears the insulting announcement, “ We have buried him 
with his niggers,” which came back.) 

“ But among them all the parade of April 4, 1864, was not the 
least memorable, for the three years since the Massachusetts regiment 
passed one Wednesday morning, amidst the doubt and wonder and dis- 
may of the spectators, had transformed a parade of our citizen soldiery 
from a curious and pretty pageant into a spectacle full of reality and 
meaning. The thousands of men who marched with waving banners 
and melodious bands t ^onor the opening Fair, through the long street 
packed with people, a. _ under the houses and windows and doors 
and balconies swarming ' spectators, looked no longer like holiday 
militia, but like soldiers in me midst of a tremendous war, who knew 
that their next march might be to the battle-field.” 

The distinction between regulars and volunteers had vanished. 
The soldiers of that day were a corps of the great army of the people. 

By five o’clock the parade was over, and at six the doors of the 
Fair were opened. A prayer, Dr. Holmes’s Army Hymn nobly sung, 
a patriotic speech by General Dix, and an admirable response by Mr. 
Joseph H. Choate, were all the immediate opening ceremonies. * That 
evening, and for many days following, the Fair was the great event 
of the day. Every morning its history appeared in the papers, and, 
enormous as was its success, it was deserved. Every department was 


IN WAR-TIME. 


91 


wonderfully complete. There was the finest collection of pictures ever 
gathered together in the city. There was the most copious and in- 
teresting museum of military trophies of the century. There was a 
curiosity-shop unsurpassed as a museum of things quaint and rare. 
There was a children’s hall, — a vast nursery, of profuse and delight- 
ful attraction. There were living reproductions of the ancient days in 
the Knickerbocker Gallery and the Cockloft Summer House. There 
were war-dances by Indians from the Rocky Mountains, and, as the 
chief substance and business of the Fair, there were booths, tables, and 
counters at which every useful trade was represented and every article 
of luxury or of necessity could be purchased, while a lofty floral temple 
blooming with flowers and blithe with birds rose in the centre of the 
great hall. 

The finest orchestra filled the air with music, and a spacious 
restaurant, occupying two floors, was so filled with excellent appetites 
that a wit remarked that the walls should have been tapestried with 
Gobelins. (Our gobblers lost us money; the restaurant was the only 
thing which did not pay.) 

All this seems very small by contrast with what has happened 
since, — the world grows; but then it seemed enormous, and, for a 
country torn by the throes of civil war, it was noteworthy. 

The episodical attractions were endless. The mind of a certain kind 
of piety could not but see with satisfaction that the unspeakable crime 
of raffling was not permitted, while the generous charitable human soul 
was glad to know that subscriptions were possible for albums and 
caskets of exquisite sketches by our best artists, which few single purses 
could afford. The expenditure was noble and profuse. The prices of 
wares were not exorbitant, and the houries and fairies did not hesitate to 
give change. There was a dazzling profusion and wild elegance to 
the scene. It was a Saturnalia of charity and good feeling. How could 
it be too opulent, too extravagant? This surpassing flower of sym- 
pathy sprang from the red battle-field, from the hushed dimness of 
military hospitals, from the pain of wounded brothers. Drop, little 
child, your penny in this box ; give, kind sir, five dollars to this sub- 
scription ; pay, dear madam, a hundred, a thousand, for this shawl ! 
It shall soothe the aching brow. It shall prop the drooping head. 
Listen ! through all the music and the murmur "d the various splen- 
dor there is one refrain that continues its ceaseiooi song : 

“ But the greatest of these i -.rity.” 

Such was the Metropolitan Fair; and imagine the feelings of the 
faithful women who had begun it and who worked to the end ! 

Two women fell dead on its floors, and I think we all had a long 
fit of illness and much nervous depression after it. 

But it was our message to those noble boys in the field that we 
did not forget them. It was a demonstration of loyalty worthy of the 
great city and State from which it emanated. 

Mr. Richard Grant White, my fellow-secretary, was one of the 
figures in our literature and social life, well worthy of a much longer 
eulogy than I can give him here. His attitude as a Shakespeare 


92 


IN WAR-TIME. 


scholar (he fondly called himself Shakespeare’s Scholar) has given him 
a world-wide reputation. As a gentleman, he was of the old-fashioned 
sort, “ sans peur et sans reproche.” He had an almost quixotic sense 
of honor and of his own high place in the work of the day. 

He had a sense of humor, and was an agreeable companion in the 
many duties assigned to us by our Governing Committee, one of which 
was to form a Dramatic Committee, for the purpose of visiting all the 
theatres to ask all the managers to give us benefits, and also to arrange 
for private theatricals and concerts. 

The history of this latter organization was most curious. At our 
first representation, our chief jeune 'premier , Archie Pell, was summoned 
away to join his regiment in the field, and Mr. White and I drove in 
different directions for four hours, losing our dinners, to find some one 
to fill his place. 

We had far more exciting episodes than that which forms the basis 
of “ The Lady of Lyons,” in our “ Ladies’ Battle,” but we carried 
it all through, and gave Opera and Drama and Comedy with such 
success that we paid in twelve thousand dollars to the common fund 
from our Dramatic Committee alone. 

I often think what a tremendous power enthusiasm is, as I remember 
these days. How impossible it would be now to do any of these things 
in cold blood ! 

Mr. White took me to call on old James Wallack, as he was affec- 
tionately called, to ask for a benefit at Wallack’s Theatre. 

I saw for the first time in private this agreeable and accomplished 
veteran of the stage, who had made our grandmothers sigh over “ gentle 
Zitella.” He was a victim to the gout, his hands all pushed out of 
shape, but his fine manner and handsome head remained. He imme- 
diately promised the benefit, and turned to Lester Wallack, who was 
with him, to ask what play it should be. 

“ I would suggest Rosedale,” said the handsome Lester. It was 
his own play adapted from “ Lady Lee’s Widowhood.” 

“Nothing better,” said the father; then he began to show me 
autographs and portraits, of which he had great store. He told me of 
his wife’s father, Johnston, the famous Irish comedian, and the won- 
derful autographs which he had left. 

I longed to get at them, but Mr. Wallack told me that he had 
never dared show the collection until it should have been catalogued. 

“ Are you afraid of collectors, because they steal ?” I asked. 

“No, madam,” said he, “but because they blush. This was a 
Sheridanesque collection, made in George the Fourth’s day.” I dare 
say it was as a collection more witty than wise, such as an Irish come- 
dian would gather together, but I advise my friend Mr. Laurence 
Hutton to look it up. 

We made Mr. Lester Wallack the stage manager of our Dramatic 
Committee. With all that he had to do, this amiable gentleman devoted 
several hours a week to the ungrateful task of teaching idle men and 
women to ape his beautiful art. The result was excellent : he brought 
order out of chaos, made the amateur actors punctual, and really pro- 
duced the plays, “ Circumstances alter Cases,” “ The Two Buzzards,” 


IN WAR-TIME. 


93 


“ The Ladies’ Battle,” etc., very creditably. As amateur work it was 
not bad. It amused us at the time, and made pass those anxious days 
when our cause seemed trembling in the balance. Mr. Leonard W. 
Jerome had just then built the theatre and club-house which still 
exists at the corner of Twenty-Sixth Street and Madison Avenue, and 
there gay fashion played for the Sanitary Commission. 

Out of the great excitement of the war grew a fantastic gayety, a 
wild sort of Carmagnole frenzy. Society did strange things. Women 
would dance the german at a fashionable New York party, with their 
hair hanging in long streamers down their backs, while the young men 
would seize those beautiful tresses for reins and drive the fair women 
with imitation whips. Everybody was half mad. And after the war 
was over, these women, to whom philanthropy had become a business, 
found it hard to return to the common every-day work of life. So 
Mrs. S. M. L. Barlow, one of the best and noblest of human beings, 
suggested that we should help the South. We went to work again at 
the Dramatic Committee, and invoked Mr. Wallack. Mr. Jerome 
lent us the theatre, and we really did some very good work, producing 
plays which were not stumbled through, but had some resemblance to 
the real thing. 

The money we made was sent to the clergymen of the South, who 
wrote of individual instances of distress. It was our pleasure to save 
the lives of sick children who needed more delicate food than their 
poor mothers could otherwise have procured. We used to receive 
most touching letters. Thus was the first effort at reconstruction 
attempted and carried through successfully. We tried to follow Grant 
at Appomattox, and to be worthy of the last words of the murdered 
Lincoln. 

A great excitement of these days was to go to West Point and see 
the successful captains received there. I saw Grant led proudly to 
the library, where he had graduated, by his old professor. All the 
members of that august board rose to receive him. I never saw a man 
look so frightened. He told me afterwards that no cadet being 
“ found” ever felt so sheepish. His modesty, like Washington’s, was 
equal to his valor. 

It was always a pleasure to meet General Grant at West Point 
and to see him shake hands with the nation. 

General Sherman, the most delightful social hero, was there at his 
best, and that is saying a great deal. I used to try to hear all his 
speeches to the graduating classes. It is no hardship to go to West 
Point in June and to see those boys in gray. It is the thing we have 
most reason to take pride in. 

I have heard a very good anecdote of the readiness of Mr. 
Hewitt, apropos of West Point. While in Congress, some man made 
a speech advocating retrenchment, proposing that West Point should 
be sold. Mr. Hewitt rose in his seat. “ Mr. Speaker,” said he, “ I 
never heard of but one man who tried to sell West Point, and I think 
he made a failure of it. His name was Benedict Arnold.” 

This settled that question. 


M. E. W. Sherwood. 


94 


ACROSS DUG GAP. 



Across Dug G a P 






a broad straw hat. 


HE sun shone hotly upon the clay road, and the 
ferns and milk-weed curled their leaves like a 
feather before the fire. 

A man and a woman came slowly up through 
a bend in the road. The girl wore a short cordu- 
roy skirt and blouse ; her hair was hidden under 
The man carried artists’ materials, and looked 

warm. 

The sky held a mass of dull-white clouds, through which the sun 
shone glaringly. The pine-trees stood up tall and sombrely, and the 
wind brushed their leaves like a woman’s hair. 

“ I am very tired,” said the girl suddenly. 

She paused. All about and beneath them were the mountains, 
gravely solemn, holding each the spirit of the infinite. She took off 
her hat, fanning herself with it. Her hair was curly and of a pale- 
yellow color. The sun had burned a red spot on either cheek : where 
it had not touched, the skin was very white. 

“ We were insane to think of walking,” said the man, stopping also. 
“ We could have come on horseback, easily. It has been so many 
years since I was in this part of the country, I forgot.” 

“ Oh, I will not mind so much after we get to the top. We must 
be nearly there.” 

“ I do not know why we ever started on this expedition at all,” 
said the man, testily. “ I feel in no mood for sketching now.” 


ACROSS DUG GAP. 


95 


“ I think it was what Mrs. Dawes said : * your wife would enjoy the 
view so much, Mr. Grayson; she adores nature; she would be en- 
raptured , — enchanted .’ Then you turned and asked me. I was too 
much surprised to say anything but yes.” 

She laughed, a little bitter laugh. 

“ The people in Carrolton are all fools, I think. I asked you with 
a view to saving myself from that woman’s tongue. Bah! I did [not 
think October could be so warm.” 

“ It was very warm this time last year. I remember I wore all 
my thin dresses.” 

They were wedding dresses : she did not care to remember that. 

They went on silently for a little. The path broadened and came 
out upon a level eminence, where the breeze blew strongly. The man 
threw himself down upon a bed of thick fern, and drew a deep 
breath, looking about him at the “ living garment of God.” He loved 
beauty with intensity, — though he did not love his wife. 

The girl sat down silently, her gray eyes looking unseeingly. Sud- 
denly she rose, her voice sounding with controlled emotion : 

“ Larry, I do not see the use of this mockery any longer. I, for 
one, will not stand it. Let this be our last walk. Was it not yester- 
day you told me I but crippled and held you down ? Be free of me 
after this. I married you because I loved your genius ; you married 
me because you liked to paint my face, — a face you thought beautiful. 
We are both tired now : why keep up any semblance or pretence of 
what should be sacred ?” 

He frowned a little : he was handsome even when he frowned. 

“ Because I am a gentleman. I do not wish any scandal. You are 
my wife.” 

“ Sometimes I think you forget that fact,” she said, bitterly. 

“ Catherine, I think a jealous woman a fool ” 

“ And I think an unfaithful husband a coward.” 

Her eyes flashed. She sat down at a little distance. Two heavy 
tears came into her eyes. To herself she thought, il I should not mind 
so much if the child had not died.” 

Meantime, the man worked steadily, until shadows darkened his 
papers ; then he looked up. The sky was a deepening lead color ; the 
leaves and grass-blades were motionless. A partridge rose from the 
brush and flew upwards with a shrill cry. The quick mountain storm 
was upon them. 

“ Catherine, there is rain coming. We must get into shelter some- 
where.” 

He sprang to his feet as he spoke. A peal of thunder sounded, 
and a flash of lightning cut across the darkening sky. 

“ It is useless to go towards Carrolton. We will go on down this 
way. I think there is a house at the foot of Dug Gap. Come.” 

She dragged herself up wearily. She felt more like staying behind 
with the fast-gathering storm. He hurried her along. They almost 
ran down the steep mountain-path. Multitudes of little stones, shaken 
from their resting-places, hurried after them. And she stumbled, and 
would have fallen. He took hold of her arm then. The rain had not 


96 


ACROSS DUG GAP. 


yet begun, but it was almost as dark as night. The bushes and thick 
growth on either side were like black figures. The path turned sharply 
and widened, meeting another which twisted through the pines. A 
covered wagon drawn by oxen came out from it, blocking the way. 
The driver was a rough mountaineer wearing jeans trousers ; he was 
coatless, and across his dingy shirt his suspenders had broken and were 
tied in the middle with a bit of string. His hair was a fuzzy gray, 
under his brimless hat, and his unshaven jaws kept up a steady motion. 

“ Halloo,” said Larry, accosting him. “ Can you tell me the nearest 
shelter? We are trying to escape the storm.” 

The man looked at him reflectively for a moment. 

“ I Mow this here wagon’s ’bout ther nighest. Ef ye feel like gett’n’ 
in, I’ll answer ye don’ git er drap on ye. I hain’t erbove tak’n’ atter 
er snail, what kerries er kiver’n’ alongside uv et.” 

A crash of thunder broke through the trees, making the girl’s face 
very white. 

“ Oh, do let us get in !” she said. 

“ But where are you going?” questioned Grayson, pausing a minute. 

“ Ter hum. Bin ter Car’lton ter sell cotton ; got er slick price, 
too.” He chuckled audibly. “ ’Tain’t no ways ter my place,” he went 
on : “glad ter hev you-uns stop thar er while. Ye better git in.” 

The rain came as he spoke, — heavy, drenching drops. Catherine 
took her seat on the rough boards, Turk fashion. The wagon crawled 
on. The lightning flashed in every now and then, terrifying her. She 
sat with her face hidden, wondering if a flash of lightning would in 
mercy send her out of existence and put an end to the misery she called 
life. 

Through the wind-gusts she heard her husband laugh. 

They came to the end at last. The storm was still furious : one 
could scarcely see for the rain. The house stood some distance back, 
raised upon what looked like stilts, a yellow frame building standing 
unsteadily, with two or more little out houses in the rear, and a broken 
fence whose gate was held by a bit of string. 

“ I’ve bin atter Joshua ter mend that thar rail’n’ ever sence he wuz 
born,” their charioteer said, apologetically. “ Hit tumbled down ther 
night he come ; couldn’t stan’ no mo’ respons’bility.” 

He led the way up to the house, holding a broken umbrella care- 
fully over Catherine: through the slits in it the rain washed. He 
had confided his name to be Sam Mitchel, and that he had a wife and 
children and raised cotton “ some.” They were ushered straight into 
the kitchen, where Catherine might dry her wet things. Mrs. Mitchel 
was busy frying thick rashers of bacon, which she carefully removed 
before coming to meet them. She was tall and bony, but “ powerful” 
glad to see them. 

“ I dun’ know whar Dely is,” she remarked, as she drew up a chair 
for Catherine and bade her put up her boots to the stove : they had 
suffered in her walk up to the house. “ She went ter see atter ther 
sows, I Mow. — Now, Sam,” she shouted to her husband, “ don’ ye be 
atter tak’n’ no corn liquor ; yer coffee’s bil’n’ hot now, an’ ther hain’t 
no use in luk’n’ fur nuth’n’ else. Men is so sot on liquor. I ’low 


ACROSS DUO GAP. 


97 


sometimes they couldn’t be happy in heaven ’thout it ; an’ mebby thet’s 
why they mostly goes ter hell, as our preacher said las’ meet’n’.” 

She hung up the girl’s hat as she spoke, and gazed admiringly upon 
the soft fairness of her hair. 

“ I us’ter think Dely hed pretty hair ” She sighed, and a 

shadow came and rested upon her face. 

It was agreed that they should stay the night over. 

“ I kin jes’ tuck Mr. Grayson out in one uv them houses, an’ ye kin 
stay with Dely. Hit’s mos’ six o’clock now, an’ ther hain’t no sense 
in ye tryin’ ter git back ter Car’lton ter-night.” 

The girl made no demur. She felt tired and faint. She had not 
opened her lunch-basket, but felt no desire to eat now ; less still when 
they sat down to the table, where the yellow crockery, fat bacon, and 
saleratus biscuit invited a repelled appetite. 

“ I dun’ know whar Dely kin hev gone,” her mother said, anxiously 
scanning the faces of her numerous offspring as they gathered round, 
from Joshua, risen to the dignity of a few hairs on his chin, to the 
tow-headed twins toddling. 

Larry was enjoying it. He sparkled with mirth, and laughed and 
entered into the company as though he had been dining at Delmonico’s. 
As they smoked their pipes after supper, she heard him laughing at Mr. 
Mitchel’s account of how his wife cured warts with “ castor ile.” 

She turned away, creeping out into the dusky twilight by the back 
entrance. Mrs. Mitchel was busy cleaning away the remains of the 
supper. The children had disappeared. The rain had ceased : a star 
had come out, and shone luminously. The katydids were making 
the grasses alive. The sweet, fresh smell of the rain was everywhere, 
and mingled with it the fragrance of the wild clematis. 

She was in and under the white oaks, which made a very Druid 
grove, and whose gnarled roots and twisted branches looked gruesome 
and fantastic in the half-light. She did not know what impulse 
prompted her, — what guided her, — yet she went on. 

Now and then the perfume of violets hidden came up to her. 
When the wind blew, the trees sent down a little shower of rain-drops. 

She paused suddenly, and drew back. The moon showed itself 
from behind a cloud, and revealed a pond of clear-lighted water, in 
which the rushes and broad-leaved lilies rested stilly : it made a golden 
track upon the dark, untroubled surface ; it showed the shadows of the 
trees, dark-hanging. There was not a sound; the katydids, even, 
were hushed. 

Catherine leaned forward like one fascinated. She stooped down, 
dipping her lingers in the water. It ran over them coldly. She drew 
out her hand dripping, and rested it upon her forehead. Courage ! 
had she the courage to wade out, in among the low-lying weeds, until 
the water went over her head and her life went down to the pool’s bot- 
tom ? — her soul — where? Courage! The unknowable God could 
fashion no hades more full of torture than her life now. Courage ! it 
might be one long rest, — rest from misery and care and endless long- 
ings. 

Ought she to pray first? — she had not for so long. She somehow 
Vol. LI.— 7 


98 


ACROSS DUG GAP. 


remembered words heard long ago, — almost felt hands upon her head. 

“ Defend, O Lord, this thy child ” 

She made a step forward. A hand from behind drew her back, 
with impetuous strength. 

“ Ye ortV ter do that.” The voice had less drawl and more reso- 



DEFEND, O LORD, THIS THY CHILD ” 


lution. Catherine turned sharply. The moon showed a woman’s face, 
thin and narrow. The large grave eyes, full of unutterable pathos, 
looked into hers. She was tall, and her hand’s clasp was like a vise. 

“ Ye ort’n’ ter be out here,” she repeated. “ I dun’ know who ye 
air, or what ye’ve done, but I hain’t one ter do nuth’n’ but help ye, as 
ther Almighty knows,” 


ACROSS DUG GAP. 


99 


She drew the girl on, as she spoke. Catherine followed, durably, 
unresisting : it seemed to her a will stronger than her own com- 
manded. 

“ I don’t know what I was thinking of,” she said, presently. “ I felt 
as though I could not think at all.” 

“ Ye cayn’t, sometimes ; ye kin jes’ feel,” said the other, briefly. 

They came in sight of the house. A dog ran barking to meet 
them. 

“ I reckon ye dun’ know I’m Dely, — Dely Mitchel.- Come up ter 
my room; mebby I kin help ye some.” 

Catherine followed silently. Only yesterday she had said she 
doubted if these mountain-people had souls or intellect ; now she felt 
one had power stronger than her own. They climbed up a ladder-like 
staircase that terminated in a low porch. The woman lit a lamp which 
stood on a projecting shelf, and pushed open a door which led them 
into a low-pitched, barely-furnished room. She set the lamp on the 
table, and drew up a low chair, pushing the girl gently into it. 

“ Lemme git off yer shoes. My ! they’re soaked through.” 

She knelt down and began to unfasten them. Her face was strong 
and resolute as her voice. Her straight black calico gown showed a 
supple, well-shaped figure. Her hair was thick and abundant : it was 
almost inky in its blackness. 

“ Mebby I ort ter tell ye,” she said, suddenly, raising her head. 
“ I hain’t what wimmin call good : mebby ef ye knowed ye wouldn’t 
hev me tetch ye.” 

A hot flush of color went over her face, but her eyes did not falter. 
Catherine looked at her for a minute. Her voice sounded with a 
little, low, passionate cry : 

“ Good God ! what am If” 

She put out her hand, and the two clasped, the brq^m, hard fingers 
covering the fragile white ones. 

“ Ther Almighty makes wimmin might’ly alike,” said Dely. Her 
voice was full of a divine compassion. 

Catherine was sobbing : she made no effort to control it. Presently 
she looked up. 

“ I’d be a better woman if my child had lived,” she said. 

“ I wouldn’t hev mine back,” said the other, fiercely. 

“ Yours ! — you /” 

“ Yes. Ye think I dun’ know what et is ter hev er baby’s leetle 
arms cling’n’ ter ye, ter feel ther leetle faces close ter ye, ter hev an’ 
hoi’ ’em, an’ then see ’em die, fur all ver love. Ye think I cayn’t 
love?” 

She sat up and pushed back her hair. Her eyes were luminous 
and burning. They looked at each other silently,— the younger woman 
half awed, the tears yet wet upon her cheeks. 

“ I’ll tell ye,” said Dely. She rose and dimmed the light a little. 
The moon became visible upon the floor. 

“I dun’ know why, ’cept’n’ bekase I stood luk’n’ at that pool jes’ 
as ye did ter-night, an’ long’n’ ter hev it kiver me up furever. Mebby 
I wuz er wickeder woman, but I didn’ go ter ther devil fur all that. 


100 


ACROSS DUG GAP. 


It wuz ten yearn back, an’ I wuzn’ bad ter luk at, fur I wuz happy 
an’ didn’t know what bein’ er woman meant. I hed color like ther 
wild pinks, an’ I wa’n’ sech er vine-prap as I am now. So maw she 
wuz fur hev’n’ me go ter Car’lton an’ be in ther sto’ thar, but pap he 



“YE THINK I CAYN’T LOVE?” 


wuz sot ag’in’ it, an’ ther wuz er heap uv talk ; but bime-by maw she 
worrited him inter et, an’ I went. I hed lots uv sweethearts, but I 
didn’t keer fur none uv ’em, — nary one, — an’ they said I wuz powerful 
stuck-up. ’Twuz in ther spring thar come er man ter Car’lton, stopp’n’ 
jes’ ’cross from ther sto’. He wuz ther handsomest man I ever hev 
seen : he wa’n’ like other men.” She paused ; her eyes grew misty. 

“ He sartinly wuz beautiful.” She said the words almost under 
her breath. 

“ I met him er sight uv times. He us’ter come ter ther sto’. I 
didn’ tell him my rale name, jes’ fur ther foolishness uv et : he called 
me er funny name, — Sibyl. We us’ter meet in ther woods out thar ; 
ther roses an’ violets wuz all in bloom : seems like I kin mos’ smell 
’em now. He said he loved me. I ort not ter hev b’leeved him • 
but I did. I b’leeved in him more’n I did in Gawd, an’ I loved him 
as I never come near luv’n’ Gawd : so I did everything he tol’ me. I 
wuz jes’ seventeen, an’ when he went away I never thought he wa’n’ 
com’n’ back fur me.” Catherine put her arms about her. 


A CROSS DUG GAP. 


101 


“ I hain’t tol’ ye all. It got winter, an’ ther snow come. It wuz 
so col’ ye jes’ couldn’t git warm, an’ I wuz so sickly I wanted ter die ; 
but I couldn’t. Ye dun’ know what ’tis ter be weakly an’ sick an’ 
nobody ter keer fur ye ; fur nobody’d come near me then, an’ I used 
ter jes’ dream ’bout thet pool, an’ atter I come home I hed ter hoi’ 
myself ter keep from jump’n’ in. It wuz in March, late, when 
ther baby come, an’ she died ’fore April, — my leetle chile. Thet’s 
all.” 

She stopped abruptly. Her eyes were dry. Catherine’s were wet 
again. 

“ I recken my leetle chile’s wait’n’ fur me somewhar. Thet’s why 
I hain’t gone straight ter ther devil. I cayn’t think uv ennybody but 
me tak’n’ keer uv her. I’m try’n’ ter keep my hands clean enough 
fur the Lord ter let me tetch her.” 

She got up and straightened the pillows a little. “ Lie down here : 
ye’re wo’ out. I don’ ax ye ter tell me nuth’n’ ; I jes’ tol’ ye, fur I 
see ye’re onhappy, an’ mebby know’n’ ’ill help ye some.” 

She drew her on to the bed. In spite of everything, Catherine, 
worn out, fell asleep ; but the other lay silent, her eyes staring out at 
the shining stars. 

It was very early the next morning that she rose and crept down- 
stairs to see to getting breakfast. 

- The sun came out, breaking across the sky with red and golden 
lights, as she began to set the table. She was standing in the door- 
way a little later when her father entered. 

“ Yer’d better call Mis’ Grayson, Dely : we’re goin’ ter make er 
airly start fur Car’lton.” 

She turned, and met Larry Grayson face to face. The color went 
out from her cheeks with a sudden rush, leaving it white like chalk. 
Her eyes were full of piteous lights. His own face wore a puzzled, 
wondering look, gradually deepening into one of pained recognition. 
She put out her hand, staggering a little. 

“ What’s ther matter, Dely ? Bin up too long ’thout ennything on 
yer stomich ?” 

She shook her head, steadying herself in a minute. Grayson threw 
open the window, and stood leaning out. The air came in fresh with 
light and beauty. His soul knew none. 

He felt a hand timidly put upon his arm. He turned, facing her. 

« y e needn’t be afeard uv my say’n’ nuth’n’. I’ve larnt ter hoi’ my 
tongue in ten yearn. I jes’ wan’ ter luk at ye. I dreamt so many 
times I wuz.” 

He did not speak. His face was an agony. Outside a bird began 
to sing. 

“ Ye’re jes’ ther same,” she went on, slowly, — “jes ther same. I 
hain’t.” 

Then he spoke : 

« j couldn’t help it. I did not forget. The circumstances were 
‘ such I could not do otherwise. I thought you would understand.” 

His voice sounded strangely to himself. Her own answer came 
with a sharp scorn : 


102 


ACROSS DUO GAP. 


“ I understood. I wouldn’t hev come ter ye now, but fur one thing. 
I alius ’lowed I’d hate ther woman what tuk ther place I ort ter hev 
hed, wuss’n hell. I’ve jes’ laid awake nights hat’n’ ’er ; fur I knowed 
some other woman tuk ther kisses an’ love ye guv me. I us’ter say I 
hoped Gawd would strike ’er dead ’fore ther altar; but He did wuss’n 



“ YE KIN MAKE ’ER HAPPY. ... YE KIN.” 


that: He let ’er marry ye. I’ve seen ’er, onknowin’, an’ I love 
’er,— I love ’er jes’ as I us’ter love ye ; an’ I’d die fur ’er ef ’twuz ter 
be. I kep’ ’er from drownin’ ’erself las’ night, an’ mebby ef I’d 
know’d who ’twuz I saved ’er fur, I’d ’er bin less hanker’n’ atter et.” 

Her voice broke a little ; then, after a minute, she put out her hand 
again. It touched his. 

“ Ye kin make ’er happy,” she said. 

The strength and entreaty of her voice sounded to him passionatelv. 
“ Ye kin,” she repeated. 

^There was another pause. Then she spoke falteringly : “ My baby 

He dropped his head upon his hands. In all his careless, eager 




ACROSS 

life he had never felt like this, 
great and overwhelming remorse. 

“So did hern,” went on the 
reason I love ’er so.” 

Still he did not speak. Why ask forgiveness of a wrong like this, 
whose immensity he could scarcely grasp? 

“ I’ll be think’n’ ’bout ye,” she said, softly, “ an’ her” She stood 
still, looking at him a moment. Where the sun touched his bent head, 
the bronze of his hair was gold. She closed the door very gently 
behind her. 

When Catherine came down, she did not see Dely, though she 
searched and called for her. She had heavy circles about her eyes, and 
her face was without color. She followed her husband silently into the 
cart which was to carry them to Carrolton. Once he leaned over and 
arranged the cushions for her, with a certain tenderness of manner. 
She was thinking, “ I must live, that I may see my little child.” 

It was two years later that there came a letter to the Mitchel house. 
It was to Dely, and Catherine’s hand had written : “ I am writing to 
thank you for what you did that night, as I could not then. I have 
thought of what you said, and tried to be a better woman. And he — 
my husband — has come to care for and know me better, perhaps 
because of that. It has been different since that night. God has been 
good to me. I pray He will be good to you.” 

And He was good. The letter was not opened. Dely had gone to 
meet her little child. 

Among her husband’s pictures there are many of Catherine. With 
love and gentleness and his own remorse, he has grown to hide nothing 
from her. Only there is one pictnre she has never seen, — a woman’s 
face, framed in night-black hair, with roses twisted in it, and eyes like 
darkened stars. Underneath is written Sibyl. 

S. L. Bacon. 


DUG GAP . 103 

His soul seemed swallowed up in a 
low, plaintive voice. “That’s one 



104 


AN ACTRESS AND HER ART. 



SYDNEY ARMSTRONG. 


AN ACTRESS AND HER AR1. 

T HERE is a subtle something that belongs to the art of acting which, 
however you may classify it, can rest on only one foundation, — 
inherent love for the art itself. It is the quality which distinguishes 
the real artist from the trickster or the accidental success. One fre- 
quently hears an actor or actress spoken of as “ conscientious” or 
“ painstaking,” terms which are generally used to express the most 
favorable criticism. The average play-goer, even if he cannot analyze 
for the precise cause, is invariably pleased with such an artist. It is 
the highest compliment the actor can pay his audience, that his work 
is conscientious ; the most flagrant insult if it is not. 

Thus there is a wide gulf between actors and actresses who achieve 
accidental successes — which may be caused by a score of differing rea- 
sons, such as personal magnetism, beauty, social notoriety — and that 
portion of the profession who by their own labor and study have won 
honor and renown in their art. True, the faculty for fruitful labor and 
study is a gift in itself. The history of the stage, like that of other 
professions, furnishes hundreds of examples of men and women who 
have spent their lives in ceaseless endeavor without avail. Talent there 
must be for success, genius for immortality. 

An actress whose career affords a splendid example of untiring and 
enthusiastic labor crowned with deserved success is Sydney Armstrong, 
now leading ladv in Mr. Charles Frohman’s New York stock company. 
Miss Armstrong’s work in “ Men and Women” and in “ The Lost 


AN ACTRESS AND HER ART. 


105 


Paradise,” Mr. Frohman’s two latest productions, has elicited much 
praise from the critics. In “Men and Women,” written by Messrs. 
Belasco and De Mille, she is called upon to enact a part exceedingly 
severe in its requirements, affording her such opportunities that her 
acting in it has been compared by some enthusiastic critics to that of 
'Bernhardt. Certainly it is full of depth and power, and she rises to 
some of the strongly dramatic situations in which the play abounds, in 
a manner justifying beyond all denial her claims to a place in the first 
rank of American actresses. The character of Agnes in the play is a 
strong one, and Miss Armstrong has not failed in her conception of it 
to grasp the most vital points as well as the thousand delicate touches 
so indispensable for the rounding out of a perfect stage figure. 

In “ The Lost Paradise” her work is somewhat lighter, but here 
also she is afforded a brilliant opportunity for the display of those fine 
touches which experience alone can impart. Agnes, in “ Men and 
Women,” is a responsible and conscious woman from the beginning of 
the play. In “ The Lost Paradise” Margaret Knowlton is revealed at 
first as a mere girl who crosses the threshold of womanhood as the 
action of the play unfolds itself. Brought up in luxury, shielded from 
care and anxiety, we first know her as the type of a lovable though 
thoughtless child whose ignorance is so complete that she does not even 
comprehend the promptings of her own heart. But the influence of a 
strong man’s will in opening her eyes to the miseries existing in the 
world and to her duty to herself arouses her sympathies and calls forth 
all the dormant strength of character which is needed to perfect her 
womanhood. 

Looking back upon Miss Armstrong’s career, one cannot but ad- 
mire the indomitable will and tireless energy which have enabled her 
to disarm all difficulties and brought her to her present enviable position. 
Trammelled for many years by the fact that others depended upon her, 
she was unable to embrace many opportunities which would otherwise 
have been available. It was necessary that she should earn a certain 
income; she could not, therefore, at first accept desirable places in 
companies which pay only nominal salaries to unknown actresses, pre- 
ferring to employ for the minor posts women who have other means 
of support and whose ambition leads them to accept positions affording 
mere pittances. 

Miss Armstrong made her debut as an amateur in Denver, play- 
ing Flora Eccles in “ Caste?’ Her professional debut was made in the 
same play and character with a small travelling organization. After 
a short period of “ barn-storming,” she went with her sister to Balti- 
more, where both became members of an insignificant stock company, 
Miss Armstrong playing the leading parts in the round of the plays 
which such organizations usually present. This company brought out a 
different play each week, thus developing Miss Armstrong’s versatility 
and a capacity for intense application in studying and rehearsing the 
various parts which was of incalculable service to her in her later work. 

Perhaps the best schooling she received was that given by Boucicault 
when she played with him and his company in “ The Shaughraun.” 
After leaving" Boucicault she played in “Lynwood” at the Union 


106 


BRINGING HOME THE COWS. 


Square Theatre, and subsequently for a season with Fred Brighton 
in “ Forgiven.” An engagement in “ Hoodman Blind” followed, after 
which she played with Joseph Haworth in “ Rosedale.” Afterwards 
she played engagements in “ The Still Alarm” and in “ The Burglar.” 
Then came her engagement by Mr. Frohman as leading lady for his 
New York company, and her brilliant success in “ Men and Women” 
and “ The Lost Paradise.” 

It is difficult for those not versed in theatrical affairs to compre- 
hend how great an achievement it is to have thus reached the position 
of leading lady in one of the best metropolitan stock companies. It 
is a place which nothing but absolute merit can ever attain, and the 
possibilities which it affords to a woman who is ambitious and willing 
to work are practically limitless. Having reached this altitude, Sydney 
Armstrong may now allow her ambition greater sway. She has con- 
quered the thousand obstructions, great and small, which lay in her 
path, and henceforth her cburse is clear : whether she reaches her goal 
or not depends upon herself. 

Alfred Stoddart. 


BRINGING HOME THE COWS. 

W HEN potatoes were in blossom, 

When the new hay filled the mows, 
Sweet the paths we trod together, 

Bringing home the cows. 

What a purple kissed the pasture, 

Kissed and blessed the alder boughs, 

As we wandered slow at sundown, 

Bringing home the cows ! 

How the far-off hills were gilded 
With the light that dream allows, 

As we built our hopes beyond them, 
Bringing home the cows ! 

How our eyes were thronged with visions, 
What a meaning wreathed our brows, 

As we watched the cranes, and lingered, 
Bringing home the cows ! 

Past the years, and through the distance, 
Throbs the memory of our vows. 

Oh that we again were children, 

Bringing home the cows ! 


Charles G. D. Roberts. 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


107 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


[athletic series.] 


ENCING 
may be de- 
scribed, for a gen- 
eral definition, as 
the art of attack 
and self-defence 
by the aid of such 
weapons as a 
sword, a rapier, a 
sabre, a bayonet, 
or a foil. Techni- 
cally, fencing is 
usually limited to 
the last of these, 
and works on the 
art touch only on 
attack and defence 
with the foil in 
pastime and the 
rapier in actual 
personal combat. 

To begin properly, let us say a few words about the history of 
fencing. 

The art of fencing is one of the oldest known. Quarrels and hatreds 
have been common from the day that the human race existed. Men 
had to defend themselves, their property, their parents, their friends ; 
and the thought of being armed with some trustworthy weapon was 
natural. Hence steel soon took the shape of a lance, a sword, a rapier, 
and a multitude of other weapons, which varied according to the tastes, 
the needs, and the skill of the inventors. Soon frequent usage brought 
dexterity, and experience the desire to find out the best means of dealing 
or of parrying a blow. 

The Athenians, graceful and accomplished in all sports, were the 
first to establish rules to govern fencing with the sword ; for the sword, 
of all armes blanches , was always recognized as the most dangerous, on 
account of its lightness and its efficiency at close quarters. Soon after, 
the Romans became extraordinarily skilful in the art of fencing, which 
they reduced to settled principles and practised with passion : to the 
short sword of her soldiers, and to their wonderful dexterity, Rome 
owed many a long century of power and of glory. 

After the fall of Rome, fencing, as an art, became almost extinct, 
and, whatever novelists may tell us, during the Middle Ages it was 
well-nigh unknown. Ponderous two-handed rapiers required strength 




ON GUARD.— THE CORRECT POSITION. 


108 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


and endurance, but not the beautiful skill and almost dainty play of 
the foil. 

It is to Henri St.-Didier that we owe the resurrection of the art. 
In 1573 he taught fencing in Paris, and he was the first to give names 
to the different thrusts then used, such as “ main-drette,” “ ren verse,” 
“ fendante,” “ estocade,” and “ imbrocade.” 

Pater, who wrote after St.-Didier, divided the different parries into 
five distinct classes, calling them prime, seconde, tierce, quarte, and 
quinte : these names have survived the master three hundred years, 
and are used to this day. 



READY FOB THE FRAY. 


In 1635 Ducoudrai first conceived the idea of extending the reach 
by lunging when thrusting, and in 1660 Bolognesco, an Italian author 
of great repute in fencing-matters, advised extending the reach not by 
lunging, as is uniformly done to-day, but merely by bringing the body 
well forward without moving the right foot. 

Sixteen years later the celebrated Laperche made his pupils assume 
the “ on guard” position in a strange manner : he instructed them to 
stand on the point of the right foot and to lift up the left heel when 
dealing an “estocade.” He taught no more the prime and the quinte, 
which seemed forgotten in his time, but he showed them six different 
thrusts, which proves that the masters of the seventeenth century 
studied far more how to attack than how to parry, — an old exploded 
idea, natural enough to beginners, but derided by fencers of experience. 

The art of fencing slowly advanced during the eighteenth century 
towards the perfection it has reached to-day. Many authors — Italians, 
Germans, and Austrians, as well as French — devoted long hours of 
study to this beautiful art. Among these the most celebrated is Danet, 
who in 1764 published a treatise which still deserves a distinguished 
place in the literature of the foil. “ The art of fencing,” he said, “is 
a noble exercise ; it is the support of justice and of bravery ; it gives us 
means of defence wheb attacked, and of avenging our honor if it be 
wounded. The skill and experience we acquire enable us to ward 
off a mortal blow and to rispost with advantage.” 

It was, however, only at the beginning of this century that first 
appeared on the scene the great masters who originated the fencing 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


109 


of to-dav, such as Jean Louis, known as “Le Bayard ue l’Escrime,” 
Lafaug£re, the wondrous blade, Charlemagne, Gomard, de Menessier, 
Bertrand, the illustrious swordsman, and ever so many others, who all 
contributed their quota to establish fencing on a solid basis. 

Modern fencing owes its perfection to the Military Academy of 
Joinville-le-Pont, established by the French government in 1872. 
All the masters-at-arms of the French army must graduate from this 
academy, and a diploma is only awarded after lengthy examinations 
not only in the practice but also in the theory of the art. So superior 
is the instruction there that among French fencers the masters graduated 
from Joinville-le-Pont are universally recognized as the finest in the 
world, being held specially preferable to the old masters, all sadly de- 
ficient in theory, all erratic in practice, and each with ideas of his own 
about fencing. 



THE EXTENSION OF THE BODY, OR LUNGE. 


Fencing is .the art of attack and of self-defence with the sword. 
It teaches us the movements that enable us either to hit our adversary 
with a sword or to ward off his blows. The first are called thrusts; 
the second, parries. It shows us also certain movements which will 
deceive our enemy by false attacks, called feints, and instructs us how 
to protect ourselves from these. All these movements are continually 
used in a bout, or assault. 

The position taken for the attack or the defence is called “on 
guard.” Without going into details, we will explain the proper 
position of a man on guard. 

The body must be placed so as to present a profile to the adver- 
sary, the right foot forward, the right arm half bent, with the elbow 
at the distance of about ten inches from the body, the left foot some 
twenty inches behind the right and at right angles to it, the knees 
bent, the body erect and well poised on the hips, but a trifle more 
on the left than on the right, so as not to interfere with the right 
leg when “ lunging.” The general position must be such that the 
shoulders, the arms, and the right leg will have the same direction to- 
wards the adversary, the object being to cover the vital parts and facil- 
itate the lunge: the right arm half bent, the wrist at the height of 


110 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


the breast, and the point of the foil at that of the eye , the left hand 
at the height of the head ; the fingers well rounded, the thumb free ; 

the head erect, looking in the direc- 
tion of the right shoulder ; the eyes 
fixed frankly on those of the adver- 
sary. The whole posture must be 
free and easy. 

Advance takes place when the 
contestants are too far apart ; retreat, 
when too near. 

In order to advance, carry the 
right foot forward without in any 
way disturbing the position of the 
body or that of the sword, and bring 
immediately the left foot within its 
proper distance of the right (twenty 
inches). 

In order to retreat, carry the left 
foot backwards without in any way 
disturbing the position of the body 
or that of the sword, and bring im- 
mediately the right foot within its 
proper distance of the left. 

The foil must be held so that the 
hand will take the direction of the 
forearm and the point of the blade 
will be at the height of the eye. 
Hold the foil very firmly only when 
thrusting or parrying: if you grasp 
it tightly during a bout of any length, the muscles of your hand will 
become cramped, and will prevent your handling the foil with the 
necessary delicacy. 

The hand can assume three different positions when thrusting or 
parrying : 

1. In quarte , where the palm is uppermost. 

2. In tierce, where the knuckles are uppermost. 

3. In six, where the thumb is uppermost and the fingers are on the 
left ; this last position is also called middling. 

The extension of the body, or lunge, takes place when thrusting ; 
it is meant to give a longer reach. The right arm is straightened its 
full length ; the left arm is quickly lowered until it all but meets the 
body, and the right foot is rapidly extended forward (though kept quite 
close to the ground), proceeding in a straight line towards the adver- 
sary, never an inch to the right or to the left ; this would shorten the 
reach of the lunge and expose the body. After lunging, whether suc- 
cessfully or not, recover quickly and resume the guard. 

To engage is to cross swords on the side opposite to the one taken 
for the guard. For example, having joined swords in six, with the 
hand to the left, so as to guard against straight thrusts in the inner line, 
in order to engage, lower the point of your foil, pass it rapidly under 





THE FOUR QUARTERS. 


F FOILS AND FENCING. HI 

your opponent’s, and join swords, the hand still in six, but to the 
right. 

Change of engagement is a new engagement taken on the side op- 
posite to the one preceding. For example, after the completion of the 
first engagement, lower the point of your foil, pass it rapidly under 
your opponent’s, and join swords, the hand still in six, but to the left. 

The engagement and the change of engagement can be executed 
either standing still or when advancing or retreating. 

The double engagement is the immediate and rapid succession of 
two engagements. It must be executed without moving the wrist. If 




PRIME— ATTACK AND PARRY. 

made when advancing or retreating, the advance or retreat must termi- 
nate at the very moment that the second engagement is complete. A 
double engagement is extremely useful when advancing, since you 
achieve your purpose, namely, to get nearer your opponent without ex- 
posing your body, by maintaining his sword in its position and thus 
preventing his disengaging and lunging at you. If you are attacked 
at too close quarters and wish to retreat, it is useful in that it prevents 
him from pursuing you with his foil before you are well on guard. 

To attach in fencing is to endeavor to hit one’s opponent either by 
a simple or by a composite thrust. The thrust is simple when result- 
ing from a single movement ; composite, when resulting from several. 
There are three kinds of simple thrusts, — the straight thrust, the dis- 
engagement, and the coupt, or cut. 

The straight thrust hits directly the opponent ; it is the result of 
straightening the arm and lunging. To execute it, the engaging line 
not being well closed, straighten the arm, lunge, and thrust with the 
hand well up. 

The disengagement is a change of lateral lines, followed by a 
straight thrust. To execute it, lower the point of your foil, pass it 
under your opponent’s, straighten out your arm at the same time, 
lunge, and thrust. The hand ought always to be high and towards 
the opponent’s sword, so as to have the body well covered. 

The coupe, or cut, is a disengagement over (instead of under) the 



112 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


opponent’s sword. It is executed in the same manner, but in lifting 
the point of the sword above the opponent’s, straightening the arm and 
dealing a straight thrust. In making the cut, the fingers alone, and 
not the whole arm, must act, so as to pass your foil as near as possible 
to the point of your adversary’s blade. 

A fencing-bout can be compared to a battle-field, where contending 
generals exert all their coolness, their skill, and their cunning. A 
good commander seeks constantly to deceive the enemy by simulating 
false attacks with the movements of his troops. A good fencer will 
continually endeavor to delude his opponent by simulating false attacks 
which will mislead him into parrying into one line when he is being 
hit in another. These movements are called feints. 



ATTACK AND PARRY IN QUINTE. 

A feint must be so well made that it is mistaken for the hit itself; 
it will thus force your adversary off his guard and make him expose 
himself in one line in order to parry in another, when you quickly 
lunge at the unprotected spot. J 

Feints have but one purpose, to occupy your adversary’s mind on 
one line, by threatening him with danger,— i.e., the point of your foil, 
—and to lunge at him in another. When fencing against a man 
whose play you ignore, never rush in when you see an opening; it 
may be a skilful trap, in other words, a feint, which may result in a 
deadly thrust ; proceed slowly at first ; feel your way and the working 
of his sword with your blade, and endeavor to guess his thoughts. 

To parry is to ward off the sword of your adversary which other- 
wise would have hit you. Parries, when well executed, need but a 
slight movement of the wrist. Merely change your guard, so as to 
bring your sword from the line which your adversary has just left to 
the one in which he has chosen to attack you. To know how to parry 
well and quickly is essential to a good fencer. It is useless to know 
half a dozen mortal thrusts, if you cannot parry a single pass. 

To inspost is to attack after having parried, either immediately or 
after a single interval. J 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


113 


To counter-iispost is to attack after having parried a rispost. 

A time thrust ( coup de temps) is an attack surprising the adver- 
sary in the preparation of his own ; it is, therefore, an attack executed 
during an absence of foil in case of too large a feint, in that of a 
direct attack in the lower line, or when a lunge is spoiled by allow- 
ing the right foot to start before having straightened out the arm. 

It is employed in 
the case of loose at- 
tacks in the outer or 
in the inner line, or 
a direct attack in the 
lower line by lunging 
quickly in an open 
space and touching by 
the straight thrust. 

The time thrust is, 
therefore, a uniform 
movement compris- 
ing at the same time 
a parry and a rispost. 

It consists really in 
stopping the adver- 
sary from the final 
execution of his at- 
tack, by shutting out 
the line in which he 
endeavors to hit and 
preventing his further progress with your sword. It is preferable to 
make the time thrust in the upper rather than in the lower line, be- 
cause in the latter case there is too much risk of both hitting at the 
same time. 

The stop thrust ( coup d’arrtt) is a rapid attack executed during the 
advance of the adversary. It is very much the same as the time 
thrust, the principal difference being that it is done without lunging. 

To disarm an adversary is to knock his sword out of his hand. 
Once this was considered to be a very fine thing. Nowadays it is but 
little practised, it being held cowardly to hit a defenceless man. But 
as it is still used in bouts, though never in duels, we will say a few 
words about it. The simplest way is to give a quick, hard blow on 
the thinner part of your adversary’s sword with the thicker part of 
your own, when his arm is straightened out preparatory to a lunge. 
This disarm needs a correct eye and great precision of execution : it 
is used mostly on a straight thrust after a change of guard. 

Another way is to “ tie up” your adversary’s sword, half twisting 
your own around his and pressing hard. Even if you do not disarm 
him, you will force him to expose himself, and have but to take ad- 
vantage of your chance. . 

When fencing, caution and prudence should guide your every thrust. 
Never rispost until you have parried. Lunge at your adversary when 
you see a good chance ; do not throw yourself on him at hap-hazard. 

Vol. LI.— 8 



ON GUARD.— SABRE. 


114 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


Be always fully on guard. Parry well and closely, and protect your 
retreats by parries. Husband your strength, and you will always keep 
cool : you will thus have an enormous advantage over an adversary 
who is carried away by an impetuous desire of continually lunging. 

When fencing with a stranger, keep at a good distance, and feel the 
working of his sword with your blade (tdter lefer). 

To become a good fencer you must know something about the 
theory of the art, otherwise your thrusts and parries will be a blind 
routine. Analyze the work of a man who has fenced much, but with- 
out theory. It will be similar to the sparring of a self-taught country 
bumpkin. He will know about three thrusts and two parries, and 
never use anything else. Two feints will disconcert him, and three 
will see him touched. 



A CUT AT THE STOMACH, AND PARKY.— SABKE. 

When fencing, do not let your ardor carry you away ; coolness can- 
not be too much insisted upon. Be wary of your adversary, but, how- 
ever much your superior he may be, never be afraid. A man afraid 
is already half beaten. Be prudent, and retreat when you do not feel 
sure of parrying; but even then be always ready to parry a second 
thrust given in the chase. When you see a man retreat without good 
cause, be careful not to fall into a trap, and if you pursue him, do so 
cautiously. The simplest thrusts and the simplest parries are alwavs 
the best. 

When your adversary is about to thrust inside the blade, he leaves 
his right side unprotected. Take advantage of this. Having lunged, 
resume your guard as quickly as possible. Conceal your intentions 
and try and find out your adversary’s. This needs long practice, but 
once attained will make of you a formidable fencer. 

When a man is guarded too low, hit him in the upper line; when 
too high, lunge under his blade. 

In order to fence well you must study well. Anecdotes of con- 
scripts killing masters-at-arms in duels are very pretty, but are some- 
what similar to those novels wherein a single champion defeats a whole 
army. 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


115 

You cannot master anything without applying yourself to it. 
Fencing, however, when acquired to some degree, will repay a thou- 
sand times the few hours of steady work which you must devote to it. 
It is interesting, exciting, and ever varied. It develops the body, and 
particularly the chest, strengthens the muscles of the arms and legs, 
quickens the eyesight, and accustoms one to judge promptly and cor- 
rectly. 

A great physician, Sir Everard Home, known alike for his medical 
lore and for his fondness of manly sports, said of fencing, “ Of all the 
different modes in which the body can be exercised, there is none, in 
my judgment, that is capable of giving strength and velocity, as well 
as precision, to the action of all the voluntary muscles of the body in 
an equal degree, as the practice of fencing, and none more conducive 
to bodily health.” 



A CUT AT THE FACE, AND FAERY.— SABRE. 


And, truly, should you but once see two good fencers stand face to 
face, one lunging like lightning, the other parrying like a flash, ris- 
posting, feinting, and thrusting, seeking by delicacy of play or by 
superiority of rispost to make his trusty foil bend semicircularly on his 
adversary’s breast, the other endeavoring to lead his enemy into some 
cunning trap by some dainty feint, then a lunge, a rispost, a parry, and 
a counter-rispost following in quick succession, you would acknowledge 
that fencing is the most beautiful and most noble exercise in the world. 

To give an idea of what a brave man can do if he knows fencing 
thoroughly and but keeps cool and collected in danger, we will relate 
an historical duel. So extraordinary is this combat that it would be 
held a romance, had it not been witnessed by a whole army. The hero 
is Jean Louis, of whom we have already spoken as one of the great 
masters of the beginning of this century, and the duel happened in 
Madrid in 1813. He was the master-at-arms of the Thirty-Second 
Regiment of French Infantry ; the First Regiment, composed entirely 
of Italians, formed part of the same brigade. 

Regimental esprit de carps and rivalries of nationality caused con- 
stant quarrels, when swords were often whipped out or bullets exchanged. 


116 


FOILS AND FENCING. 


After a small battle had occurred in the streets of Madrid, in which 
over two hundred French and Italian soldiers had taken part, the 
officers of the two regiments, in a council of war assembled, decided to 
give such breaches of order a great blow, and to re-establish discipline : 
they decreed that the masters-at-arms of the two regiments should take 
up the quarrel and fight it out. 

Imagine a whole army in battle-array on one of the large plains 
that surround Madrid. In the centre a large ring is left open for the 
contestants. This spot is raised above the plain, so that not one of the 
spectators of this tragic scene — gayly-dressed officers; soldiers in line, 
Spaniards, excited as never a bull-fight excited them — will miss one 
phase of the contest. It is before ten thousand men that the honor of 
an army is about to be avenged in the blood of thirty brave men. 

The drum is heard. Two men, naked to the waist, step in the ring. 
The first is tall and strong ; his black eyes roll disdainfully upon the 
gaping crowd : he is Giacomo Ferrari, the celebrated Italian. The 
second, tall, also handsome, and with muscles like steel, stands mod- 
estly awaiting the word of command : his name is Jean Louis. The 
seconds take their places on either side of their principals. A death- 
like silence ensues. 

“ On guard !” 

The two masters cross swords. Giacomo Ferrari lunges repeatedly 
at Jean Louis, but in vain; his every thrust is met by a parry. He 
makes up his mind to bide his chance, and caresses and teases his op- 
ponent’s blade. Jean Louis, calm and watchful, lends himself to the 
play, when, quicker than lightning, the Italian jumps aside with a loud 
yell and makes a terrible lunge at Jean Louis, — a Florentine trick, 
often successful. But, with extraordinary rapidity, Jean Louis has 
parried, and risposts quickly in the shoulder. 

“ It is nothing,” cries Giacomo, “ a mere scratch,” and they again 
fall on guard. Almost directly he is hit in the breast. This time the 
sword of Jean Louis, who is now attacking, penetrates deeply. Gia- 
como’s face becomes livid, his sword drops from his hand, and he falls 
heavily on the turf. He is dead. 

Jean Louis is already in position. He wipes his reeking blade, then, 
with the point of his sword in the ground, he calmly awaits the next 
man. 

The best fencer of the First Regiment has just been carried away a 
corpse ; but the day is not yet over. Fourteen adversaries are there, 
impatient to measure swords with the conqueror, burning to avenge the 
master they had deemed invincible. 

Jean Louis has hardly had two minutes’ rest. He is readv. A 
new adversary stands before him. A sinister click of swords is heard, 
a lunge, a parry, a rispost, and then a cry, a sigh, and all is over. A 
second body is before Jean Louis. 

A third adversary advances. They want Jean Louis to rest. “ I 
am not tired,” he answers, with a smile. 

The signal is given. The Italian is as tall as the one who lies there 
a corpse covered by a military cloak. He has closely watched Jean 
Louis’ play, and thinks he has guessed the secret of his victories. He 


SWEETHEART, TO YOU l 


117 


multiplies his feints and tricks, then, all at once, bounding like a tiger 
on his prey, he gives his opponent a terrible thrust in the lower line. 
But Jean Louis’ sword has parried, and is now deep within his oppo- 
nent’s breast. 

What need to relate any more? Ten new adversaries followed him, 
and the ten fell before Jean Louis amid the excited yells and roars of 
an army. 

At the request of the Thirty-Second Regiment’s colonel, who thought 
the lesson sufficient, Jean Louis, after much pressing, consented to stop 
the combat ; and he shook hands with the two survivors, applauded by 
ten thousand men. 

From that day fights ceased between French and Italian soldiers. 

This wonderful and gigantic combat might be held a fable were not 
all the facts above stated still found in the archives of the Ministry of 
War. Eugene VanSchaick. 


SWEETHEART, TO YOU! 

S WEETHEART, to you all things are clear, 
The sky a pure perpetual blue, 

And Youth’s elixir in the air, 

Sweetheart, to you ! 

But Joy to me is never true ; 

For though her fairy feet draw near, 

They swiftly vanish out of view. 

My life is like a garden drear 

Whose rose of hope has lost its dew ; 

But morning buds are opening fair, 

Sweetheart, to you ! 

William H. Hayne. 


IF I MIGHT CHOOSE. 

I F I might choose my meeting-time with Death, 
I’d clasp his hand on some sad autumn day, 
And with the year’s ripe fruit I’d pass away, 

If I might time my last faint fleeting breath. 

But oh, pale king, thou art no creature’s slave ! 

We may choose much in life, but in the end 
Thou makest every mortal will to bend 
And break above an open, waiting grave ! 

Carrie Blake Morgan. 


118 


A DICTIONARY SESSION AT THE ACADEMY. 


A DICTIONARY SESSION AT THE ACADEMY ( UNI- 
VERSITY OF FRANCE). 

S INCE the day when M. Renan, running to satire, declared that it 
would take the Academy twelve hundred years yet to complete 
the Dictionary, I had but one fixed intention, which was to be present 
at one of the mysterious sessions during which the Forty * elaborated 
this gigantic work. What happened under the sonorous dome on the 
afternoon of the Dictionary ? It may be likened to a fiery forge, at 
which forty cyclops, bathed in sweat, ran the bronze of words and 
hammered the plate of the verb. Thanks to the complicity of Pin- 
gard, who never again felt kindly toward a journalist, I have been 
able to realize my dream. Carefully concealed in the great room, but 
situated so as to see and hear everything, I saw and heard everything 
last Wednesday. Here it is : 

February 15, Ash Wednesday. 

No one yet in the place. The clock strikes two. I have my 
opera-glass. I level it — nothing. Beastly weather outside. The 
snow has melted. Paris is gray and hazy. From my place of con- 
cealment with a glance I sweep the Pont des Arts to the court of the 
Louvre. No immortal on that bridge. Could Pingard have supposed 
me a lexicographical rabbit? 

A door opens finally, and some one enters. It is Monsieur the 
Perpetual Secretary. Is it a spectre, this old man calm and silent? 
No, he coughs. The cough is human. 

He moves toward a book-case containing twenty-five great volumes, 
like commercial ledgers. He takes one of them, the first to the left, 
on the back of which I discern a large capital A. He rolls it on a 
little wheeled carriage to an immense table, on which he establishes it. 
He opens it at the first page. I level my glass. The first page is 
blank. It is evidently the Dictionary. 

An immortal pushes the door. Bang it goes with a hollow sound. 
The Perpetual advances to meet and welcome him. 

“ My dear sir, you are the first. So it is everywhere,” he adds, 
gallantly, “ and always.” 

“Notwithstanding that I come from Croissy,” remarks the new 
arrival, a tall man, the living portrait of Henri IV., and whose 
hooked nose, broken very high, large and bulbous like an extinguisher, 
alone prevents his little eyes, scintillating like stars, from joining and 
mingling their fires. 

“ What ! Augier here already,” cries a voice outside, “ who lives 
in the country ?” 

Ah ! I know well the one who enters, and love him with all my 
heart. Tall also, but holding himself straighter, he carries above a 
haughty brow his pride of frizzled hair. All about him breathes the 


* The members of the Academy are forty in number. 


A DICTIONARY SESSION AT THE ACADEMY. 


119 


air of assurance which gives luck, that supreme virtue of the nine- 
teenth century. The brusqueness of being truly good, ashamed of the 
human species and the mistake of life, characterizes his gait, manner, 
and speech. It is Dumas. He comes up to Augier smiling, and both 
fall to laughing, the Parisian laugh, that laugh the crystal of which is 
a vitrified tear. 

And, at the rear, a third immortal presents himself. A fat old 
fellow, short on his legs, apparently chilly, his hands thrust in his 
sleeves, resembling some heretical beadle whose fingers would be burnt 
by holy water; his nose bulbous and pimply, like that of the Ghir- 
landajo of the Louvre in the gallery of Primitives. This member of 
the Forty, like the other two, is a glory to his* country, its only great 
contemporaneous prose-writer perhaps. They call him Renan. 

The immortal who follows next under the dome forms a striking 
contrast. He is as handsome as the Jupiter of Phidias. Long hair still 
blond falls curling upon his shoulders, disclosing a classical face which 
no modern worries have lined. He seats himself near Renan, in a 
corner, and in semitones they confabulate of ancient myths and ages 
long departed. It is Leconte de Lisle, the poet. 

“ Gentlemen,” says the Perpetual, “ we may begin. The French 
Academy has now assembled.” 

They protest against this, these modest ones. The Perpetual 
then explains to them that, as usual for lexicographical sessions, the 
dukes excuse themselves : “ we should only cramp you,” they write. 
As to the younger Academicians, trusting in their leaders, they put the 
work on them. So at their age they sow their wild oats, when one 
amuses himself in the world. The professors are giving lessons in 
town at a dollar apiece, for immortals must live as well as others. 
Hence their absence. As for the scientists, they have forgotten the day, 
the hour, their business perhaps, and the surrounding world, “the 
world where it surrounds them,” said he. These explanations furnished, 
the Perpetual opens the Wednesday session, called the Dictionary 
session. 

From the skies Richelieu lends an ear. I see it with the glass. 

The Perpetual. “ You know we are at the letter A, the first of the 
alphabet and of the five vowels.” 

Emile Augier. “Naturally; but at what word ? I can never re- 
member the word we blessed at the preceding session.” 

The Perpetual. “ You blessed none. You talked of other things. 
Since the death of the late Villemain you have been upon Abraca- 
dabra.” 

Alexander Dumas. “ Already ? How the time passes !” 

Leconte de Lisle. “ Abracadabra is a fine word, fine especially by 
itself, sonorous, and bestirring the mandibles. Pronounced a few times 
with increasing swiftness it would exercise the delivery of the Conser- 
vatoire. I do not regard it unfavorably nor see anything against it.” 

Ernest Renan. “ Abracadabra is cabalistic and onomatopoetic.” 

All. “ Onomatopoetic. Oh !” 

The Perpetual. “ Onomatopoetic words have no adjectives, my dear 
sir.” 


120 A DICTIONARY SESSION AT THE ACADEMY. 

Ernest Renan (humming). “ We shall know that, Camille, in twelve 
hundred years.” 

A little disconcerted, the Perpetual prays the Academy at least to 
vote for or against Abracadabra as it stands. “ France attends !” says 
he. “ The centuries fly !” Then Alexander Dumas tosses a poker 
chip into the air. 

“ Head or tail !” cries he, laughing. 

But the counter falls back into his open fob, for this immortal is a 
skilful juggler. Surprise and general merriment in the place. The 
Perpetual proposes to tack to the word Abracadabra the abbreviation 
“ unus.,” meaning “ unused.” 

And Richelieu up in the clouds listens with all his ears. 

The Perpetual taps a little bell, and in a voice of forced gravity 
announces, — 

“We pass to Abracadabrant.” 

An energetic protest welcomes this proposition. “You want to 
kill the immortals in their lifetime even!” “ What should we leave 
for our heirs to do?” “We have twelve hundred years before us !” 
“Must we be weakened with work at our age?” . . . 

Emile Augier (to Renan , offering his cigarettes). “ It is time, I think, 
to light one.” 

Ernest Renan. “ Thanks, but I do not smoke. I will read the 
Petit Journal.” He draws that paper from his pocket, opens it, and 
hastens noticeably to the literary department. * 

Lecortte de Lisle. “ The Romayana for me” ( same proceeding). 

. The Perpetual. “ Gentlemen, I am compelled to interrupt you ; 
but you are only forty to construct a language, and it must be con- 
structed. Abracadabrant, whence later Abracadabrance, is the proper 
adjective of the word which you have honored by your observations. 
By the name of The Cardinal, of Colbert, of Louis IV., and of Mme. 
S6vign6, I adjure you not to separate without having settled the fate 
of this word. It drags. Admit into the national vocabulary or reject 
it, one or the other must be done.” 

“ We admit it, — knocking off the end,” cries Renan, crumpling his 
Petit Journal. 

“ Gentlemen,” puts in Leconte de Lisle, “ we revel in cant and 
disorder. Knocking off the end is not the thing for lexicographical 
immortality. Abracadabra (unus.) leads necessarily to Abracadabrant. 
My feet are getting cold, however, and I do not conceal from you that 
I must take my dose of oil. Only know that Abracadabra rhymes 
richly with Alhambra.” 

“ And with Mademoiselle Subra,” says Dumas. 

“In twelve hundred years who will know it?” demands Renan. 

The Perpetual. “ Gentlemen, the session is closed.” 

Emile Augier. “ It is one of our best.” 

Translated from Emile Berger at by H F. Machuning. 


MEN OF THE DAY. 


121 


MEN OF THE BAY. 

jHMILE ZOLA, the great French novelist, is a short-set, pleasant-looking 
. bourgeois, of portly build, with a flabby parchinent-complexioned face 
framed in a fringe of black beard that is streaked with gray. He wears eye- 
glasses, and is profoundly imperious in manner. He is now two-and-fifty, and 
all his life long has been in opposition. His career is of his own making. 
Five-and-twenty years ago he was a clerk in Hachette’s book-store in Paris,— 
passing rich on eighty francs a month. While writing his first romance he 
w r as often reduced to bread and water, and playfully remarks that he was com- 
pelled to play Arab as to clothes. To-day he is nearly if not quite a million- 
aire. He has amassed a fabulous fortune out of his books. “ L’Assommoir,” 
which is perhaps his most popular work, has gone through fifty editions. His 
latest novel, “ La Debacle,” published quite recently, is generally accounted 
his masterpiece. He has recently made a pilgrimage to Lourdes, which he 
intends to embody in his next novel. How he ever manages to turn out a 
bulky volume yearly is difficult for any one who has seen him use the pen to 
understand. He holds it between his second and fourth fingers in the clumsiest 
manner imaginable, and writes as slowly and laboriously as any child at school. 
Between the conclusion of one novel and the commencement of another he takes 
a few weeks’ rest, during which he boats immoderately. He is also much 
addicted to gardening. He resides at Medan. His home was originally a 
peasant’s cottage, and contains but three rooms. It is here he pursues his 
literary labors. Two hundred and thirty trains pass the door daily. He fled 
to this rural “retreat” in 1878 to escape the annoyance caused by the hordes of 
tourists who filled Paris at the time of the Exhibition. He was appointed a 
Knight of the Legion of Honor, and was last year elected President of the 
Society of Men of Letters ; but the Academy is still closed against him, though, 
like Daudet, he has been knocking at the door for some years. “ I am not in 
the least discouraged,” he said after his recent defeat for admission, “ and 
shall present myself again and again. It is only a matter of patience. Balzac 
was blackballed, and yet everybody said that he would have got in eventu- 
ally if he had not died before the time came to present himself again. Then 
there was Victor Hugo, who had to present himself four times. Perhaps I shall 
have to present myself twice as often ; but I shall get there in the end.” 

Thomas A. Edison, the great inventor, is a spare, stoop-shouldered man, 
with a pallid, smooth-shaven face, cold, searching eyes, and a wisp of half-gray 
hair straggling across his forehead. He is deaf of both ears, but his mind cuts 
through questions like a saw, and he is a glutton for work. In the old days it 
was no uncommon thing for him to remain at the bench for forty-eight hours at 
a stretch, not giving up until his assistants had actually fallen asleep. He still 
works daily in his laboratory, and comes forward to greet you in just such a suit 
of clothes as he wore two decades ago. As compared with the dingy little shop 
of that period, in which he used to eat his bread and cheese seated on an old 
packing-box, the present surroundings are fabulously luxurious. It is said that 
his laboratory costs something like two hundred thousand dollars yearly to main- 
tain. From this famous laboratory most of his inventions have been issued. 


122 


MEN OF THE DAY. 


Over four hundred patents have already been issued to him, and the number is 
constantly increasing. One-fourth of these refer to telegraphy. He is now 
rated at three millions, and is getting richer every year. He has been decorated 
by several European sovereigns. The “ Wizard of Menlo Park,” as he has come 
to be called, is now forty-four, and is an Ohioan by birth. He is severely self- 
made. He was at school only two months. At the age of twelve he became a 
railway newsboy. Later on he published an amateur paper, which he printed 
and sold on the train, and also improvised a laboratory in a baggage-car for 
chemical experiments. Having at great peril saved the life of the little son 
of a station-master, the father out of gratitude helped him to learn telegraphy, 
and in a short time he became a skilful operator, being successively employed 
at Port Huron, Indianapolis, Cincinnati, and Memphis. During the years thus 
employed he was constantly experimenting in every direction. His first patent 
was for a chemical vote-recording apparatus for use in legislative bodies, and 
was taken out while he was in Boston. In 1871 he settled in New York, and 
shortly afterwards became superintendent of the Law Gold Indicator Company; 
which supplied gold and stock quotations to brokers’ offices. From this point 
his career has been one of uninterrupted success. Yet he is quite a modest man. 
He eschews publicity ; is a confirmed vegetarian : he seldom eats or drinks, but 
smokes twenty cigars a day. He has been twice married, has four children, 
and a father of ninety-one who still walks ten miles a day. 

George Du Maurier, the well-known artist, is a slim-built, somewhat 
stoop-shouldered man, with a half-gray moustache and goatee, and wears eye- 
glasses. He is rising seven-and-fifty, and was born in Paris, his father being 
one of an old French family who fled to England to escape the guillotine. His 
parents intended him for a scientist, but Nature intended him for an artist, and 
Nature prevailed, so that he early jilted chemistry and devoted himself heart 
and soul to the serious study of art. From Paris he passed to Antwerp, where 
in the midst of terribly hard work he had the misfortune to lose completely the 
sight of one eye. Happily the other was spared to him, and all the world 
knows to what good use he has put his crippled sight. In 1860 he settled in 
London, and at once began illustrating for a weekly magazine. He also con- 
tributed a few pictures to Punch, and “ precious bad they were, too,” he humor- 
ously remarks. Twenty-five years ago he stepped into the shoes of John Leech, 
on the staff of that journal, and he has enriched its pages with the well-known 
caricature sketches of society life, as typified by “ Mrs. Ponsonby de Tomkyns,” 

“ Sir Gorgius Midas,” and others. He is very enthusiastic about his special 
walk in art. “Leech,” he says, “was the founder of the system I carry out. 
He was the son of Cruikshank, and Cruikshank was the son of Hogarth. In a 
different way I try to follow in their footsteps and endeavor faithfully to depict 
society as it is.” He is conscious that upon his shoulders is laid as it were the 
responsibility of handing down to posterity exact and yet graceful representa- • 
tions of English high life, its customs and sayings, and above all its coats and 
hats and gowns. He never caricatures ; indeed, if anything, he errs in quite 
another direction. He has almost created a set of humanities that are to the 
ordinary eye too fine and fair, too graceful and daring, for human nature’s daily 
food. He is responsible more than any one else for the death of the so-called 
aesthetic school. Who could “ live up to a teapot” after those absurd pictures 
of his, or be “ intense” with the thought of the weird, unkempt, silly females 


GOSSIP OF THE CENTURY. 


123 


that at one time so pervaded all his pictures ? Latterly he has turned his atten- 
tion to literature. His maiden novel, “ Peter Ibbetson,” which appeared last 
year, was a distinct success; and it is said that he is now at work upon another 
book. Personally he is one of the most agreeable of men. He has known all 
the celebrities of his day, and probably declines more invitations to dine out 
than even the Prince of Wales himself, for he is socially in much demand, being 
a charming conversationalist and altogether a delightful companion. He is a con- 
noisseur of dogs, and is an inveterate first-nighter, being usually accompanied 
by one of his three accomplished daughters, who serve as models for the grace- 
ful girls he draws so daintily. Among his other claims to distinction, he illus- 
trated Thackeray’s “ Esmond and he is still asked to illustrate more books 
than he could possibly do if he had a dozen set of hands : so that his bank- 
account is waxing large. 

' M. Crofton. 


“GOSSIP OF THE CENTURY.” 

No other word in the English language has such delightful associations as 
the word “ gossip.” It is a pity that to the vulgar mind it bears a nuance of some- 
thing undignified and unworthy, if not absolutely discreditable. Surely the 
purveyor of innocent amusement deserves a high place among the benefactors 
of mankind. And the true gossip is something more than that. He is a most 
puissant knight in the service of the great and holy goddess of Truth. It is 
his mission to reveal the real man behind the conventional toga in which His- 
tory and Biography strive to drape him. He photographs where the Historian 
paints a fancy portrait. 

A very good book of its kind is “ Gossip of the Century,” just published by 
Macmillan. The gossiper’s name is not given, but a hint is supplied in the 
fact that it is by the author of “ Flemish Interiors.” 

The faults of the book are manifest. The author is a gentleman of birth 
and education, and a genial temperament has evidently enabled him to make 
the most of those accidental advantages. Certainly he has known, met, and 
conversed with an extraordinary number of interesting personages. But he has 
not profited by his opportunities as a quick-witted man would have profited. 
He has small insight into character, he deals only with surface traits, he is 
shallow and provincial. In short, he realizes Horace Porter’s definition of a 
Mugwump as “ a person educated above his intellect.” Of the Lake Poets, for 
example, he talks with the most amusing scorn. Evidently he does not know 
that the verdicts of the Edinburgh Review (whose editor, for some inscrutable 
reason, he calls Lord Jeffreys) have been reversed by posterity. He mentions 
that he often met Carlyle ; but the only original observation he volunteers con- 
cerning him is that he “ never saw him without renewed interest of a certain 
kind, his peculiarities were so peculiar.” He quotes approvingly a passage 
from’ Greville’s “ Memoirs” (indeed, he calls it “as good a satire as ever was 
made on a pseudo-philosopher”) which runs as follows : “ Dined at the Ash- 
burtons’, where met Carlyle, whom I had never seen before. He talks the 
broadest Scotch, and appears to have coarse manners, but might perhaps be 
amusing at times.” One would like to feel the bumps of a gentleman who 
admires such a flunky view of a great man. 


124 


“GOSSIP OF THE CENTURY. 


Then the gossiper proceeds to tell us the old story of how Stuart Mill lost 
the manuscript of Carlyle’s “ French Revolution, ” also how Carlyle hawked his 
“ Sartor Resartus” among the publishers, condescendingly says that “ many of 
the quaint and clever things put forth by Carlyle deserve to be treasured,” and 
so dismisses one of the most picturesque figures in all literature. 

This vice of padding out his book with the most familiar and well-worn 
anecdotes is continually apparent. He hardly introduces a personage without 
repeating the jests or ana which have already reappeared ad nauseam in the 
jest-books and the literary manuals. He tells us that Sydney Smith said of 
Whewell that “ omniloquence was his forte and omniscience was his foible,” 
and of Macaulay that “ he had many brilliant flashes of silence that when 
Samuel Rogers remarked of Queen Caroline that she could speak only a single 
word of English, Lady Charlotte Lindsay said she hoped it was No, “ because, 
though Yes often meant No, a lady’s No never meant Yes.” 

Nevertheless, after making all deductions, there is a large residuum of 
entertaining matter in the book. 

It begins with a bonne-bouche. One of the most hateful characters in literary 
history was John Wilson Croker, the editor of the London Quarterly Review, 
and, in that capacity, the bitter, brutal, and ignorant enemy of genius. We 
know that he never got his deserts, — that he was never immersed in boiling oil ; 
we regretfully recognize that to the savage of the present the savage punish- 
ments of the past ( similia similibus ) cannot be meted out. Except metaphori- 
cally, we cannot even spit upon him. It is consequently with a devout feeling 
of gratitude to Providence that we witness the spectacle of Mr. Croker being 
spat upon metaphorically. 

This was shortly before the death of King George IV., whose funeral the 
gossiper tells us he witnessed. Croker, then Secretary to the First Lord of the 
Admiralty, after a dinner with royalty, got into a war of wits with the Duke of 
Clarence, afterwards William IY. 

“ When I’m king,” said the duke, “ I’ll be my own First Lord; and, depend 
on it, John Wilson Croker won’t be my Secretary.” 

“ Does your Royal Highness remember,” replied Croker, “ what English 
king was his own First Lord?” 

“ No, I can’t say I do,” answered the duke. 

“Well, it was James II.,” said Croker, and, not unnaturally, the reply 
caused a general laugh among those near enough to catch it. 

The king, who was pacing up and down the room, hearing this expression 
of mirth, called out, — 

“What’s the joke? One of your good things, Croker, no doubt?” 

“No, indeed, your Majesty ; but your royal brother is telling us what he 
means to do in the navy when he comes to the throne,” replied Croker, forget- 
ting himself in most uncourtier-like manner. 

The king withdrew without a word. Next morning he sent Croker a 
summons to his bedroom. His Majesty was very serious. 

“ I was annoyed,” he said, severely, “ at your exposing my brother’s non- 
sense under my roof last night, and, in the next place, your repeating what he 
said he should do when I am no longer king : let me request there may be no 
recurrence of similar utterances.” 

Not a very terrible rebuke, after all, you may say. Well, of course, one 
would rather it had been some Oriental potentate who with one wave of his 


GOSSIP OF THE CENTURY '.” 


125 


hand might have caused the offender’s head to be severed from his body. But, 
though the rebuke may not seem very terrible to us good Americans, let us take 
comfort in the reflection that to a Briton, and especially a Tory Briton, a rebuke 
from his king is far more crushing than a rebuke from his God. Furthermore, 
let us gleefully remember that, in the highly-organized individual of to-day, a 
gaucherie, a social misstep, a breach of etiquette, may be the cause of the most 
exquisite torture. Even an observer so calm and philosophic as Mr. Darwin 
has taken note of this fact, and calls attention to the further fact that years 
after the thing occurred it will be remembered with a twitch of agony out of all 
proportion to the offence. There is reason to hope that Mr. John Wilson Croker 
(who had a good memory) suffered a great deal from this contre-temps. 

Of Charles Dickens the gossiper speaks with outspoken vituperation. 
“ None can respect Dickens as a man,” he says, “ however much they may 
admire him as a writer. The members of his family held their own views as to 
his heartlessness; for, even allowing for the lowliness of his antecedents and 
origin, his deficient education, and his recognized lack of the instincts of a 
gentleman, no one can afford to overlook his immoral life, his unchastened 
vanity and selfishness, and the presumption with which he blazoned forth his 
indifference to the feelings of those he injured, to the opinions of the world, 
and to the sacredness of his own vows.” He tells us that Dickens was once his 
fellow-traveller on the Boulogne packet. Travelling with him was a lady not 
his wife nor his sister-in-law. Yet he strutted about the deck with the air of a 
man bristling with self-importance ; every line of his face and every gesture 
of his limbs seemed haughtily to say, “ Look at me. Make the most of your 
chance. I am the great, the only Charles Dickens ; whatever I may choose to 
do is justified by that fact.” 

On landing, the luggage (after the clumsy fashion of the day) was tumbled 
into a long rough shed and placed on a counter to be searched. “ I happened 
to be near the spot where the great man’s boxes had been deposited, and as 
he walked up to surrender his keys, — 

“‘Owner?’ inquired the custom-house officer, briefly and bluffly. 

“ * I am,’ answered the only Dickens, in a consequential tone. 

Name?’ said the official, as bluntly as before. 

“‘Name!’ repeated the indignant proprietor of the same. ‘What Name? 
— did you say?’ reiterated he, in a voice which meant, ‘ Why don’t you look at 
me, instead of asking such an absurd question ?’ But the man stood there 
stolidly, with his lump of chalk in his hand, waiting for the answer which had 
to come nolens volens : ‘ Why, Charles Dickens, to be sure !’ 

“ To Master Dickens’s mortification, the name and the tone alike failed to 
produce any impression on the preoccupied official, who continued unmoved 
the dull routine of his duty: had the douanier been one of the other sex, the 
result might have been different.” 

With George Eliot and George Henry Lewes the gossiper was on terms of 
familiarity, if not intimacy. He gives a few letters which evidence this, but are 
not otherwise interesting. Nevertheless he adds little or nothing to our knowl- 
edge of this unique couple. Of George Eliot he records that she was by no 
means sparkling in conversation, her social attributes being rather of the heavier 
Johnsonian order, “ and her remarks were often sententious, though apparently 
not designedly so, for there was obviously no intentional arrogation of superiority, 
though perhaps an almost imperceptible evidence of self-consciousness. The 


126 


RECENT AMERICAN FICTION. 


impression she left was that of seriousness and solid sense, untempered hy any 
ray of humor, scarcely of cheerfulness ; she spoke in a measured thoughtful 
tone, her speech was marked rather by reticence than by volubility : now and 
then she would give out an epigrammatic phrase which seemed almost offered 
as a theme for discussion, or as a trait of originality to be perhaps recorded by 
her chroniclers.” 

Of Robert Browning he merely repeats a story the poet had told him con- 
cerning a visit he had paid when at Florence to an old philosopher named 
Kirkup. This was in the days when John Home and spiritualism were occupy- 
ing the minds of the public. Kirkup was found engaged with a female medium 
apparently in a state of trance, on whom he was practising experiments. 

“ Ah, my dear fellow,” said he, “how glad I am you are come! for I can 
now practically demonstrate to you those supernatural facts which I believe you 
still doubt. Now see, I will desire this woman to raise her arm, — an order you 
would give her in vain, — and I can make her maintain it rigidly in that posi- 
tion during as many hours as I please.” 

Suiting the action to the word, after Browning had made the attempt un- 
successfully, he gave the command, which was immediately obeyed. Browning 
exerted his strength to move or bend the limb, but it continued as stiff as when 
Kirkup had fixed it. 

Then the good old man went out for a book. His back was hardly turned, 
when Browning, who was examining some manuscripts on the table, felt a touch 
on his shoulder. Turning round, he saw the woman wink at him and imme- 
diately resume her attitude as Kirkup’s returning steps were heard. 

W. S. Wahh. 


RECENT AMERICAN FICTION 

It is one of the fashions of the day to speak of the American novel as a 
hitherto unknown quantity, a distinct event in the future of our literature, 
ignoring the fact that, like the poor, the American romance is always with us, 
and that it is we who are unappreciative of our blessings in the one case as in 
the other. 

What are all the stories of American life that have come to birth in the last 
decade, from Canada to Mexico and from the Golden Gate to the Atlantic sea- 
board, if they are not American novels? — whether reaching back into the his- 
toric past, picturing the present, or drawing, with fine touches, phases of life 
and character rapidly vanishing, if not already vanished, from the world of 
to-day? Will such pictures of old Virginia and Creole life as those of Thomas 
Nelson Page, Hopkinson Smith, Richard Malcolm Johnson, Ruth McEnery 
Stuart, George Cable, and Grace King be again drawn, as have been given to 
us by these men and women living near the traditions of the past and on the 
border-lines of a new dispensation ? 

If not American novels, what are most of Mr. Howells’s stories, notably 
“ A Modern Instance,” which recalls similar instances in so many minds that 
Bartley Hubbard has been elevated to the dignity of a type of a certain sort of 
financial corruption ? Surely under no other head than that of the American 
novel is it permissible to classify Miss Murfree’s dramatic and picturesque tales 
of the Tennessee mountains and their distinctive people, Miss McClelland’s 


RECENT AMERICAN FICTION. 127 

romances of reconstructed Virginia, and many another clever tale of North, 
South, East, or West. 

Such fine vignettes of life as. those of Bret Harte and Hamlin Garland, racy 
of the soil, of Miss Wilkins and Miss Pool, which are almost photographic in 
their accuracy, and of Richard Harding Davis, with their condensed dramatic 
power, cannot be called novels, on account of their brevity ; but may it not be 
that the short story, with its concrete force and epigrammatic brilliancy, is 
destined to represent the genius of American fiction in the future ? Even now, 
there be few who clamor for the three-volumed novel of the past. 

Those who are still looking for the truly American romance, savoring of the 
soil, character, and institutions of the country, should discover signs of promise 
in two recent novels, — “ John Gray,” by James Lane Allen, and “ The Dooms- 
woman,” by Gertrude Atherton. Widely different in setting, motive, and treat- 
ment, these two stories are alike in some respects. They both portray a phase 
of American life that has entirely passed away, and both are instinct with a 
subtle and pervading atmosphere of time and place without which no romance 
of the past can approach the reader of to-day with the force of reality. Mr. 
Allen’s tale of old Kentucky comes to us full of the border warfare and the 
struggle for existence of that pioneer life, with its rude surroundings and vigor- 
ous character-making, while in the movement of the story there is the promise 
and forecast of a brighter future, secured by the endurance and efforts of the 
early settlers whose individualities stand out upon its pages. 

Mrs. Atherton’s romance “The Doomswoman,” which we feel suffers 
somewhat from its unattractive title, is full of tropical warmth and color, and 
of the movement and life of Southern California under Spanish rule, a flower 
heavy with the rich bloom that precedes decay. Here are scenes, events, and 
characters described with a certain vitality of impression, as if the writer had 
drawn breath among the people and amid the surroundings that she portrays. 
The wedding, the baptism, the festivals and games of the Spanish American are 
all entered into with the languid intensity and pleasure-loving nature of the 
children of the South. The long and bitter feud between the rival houses of 
Estenega and Iturbi y Moncada supplies the tragic element without which the 
story would have no reason for being. Against this background the characters 
of the drama stand out in strong relief. Dofia Eustaquia, who tells the story, 
is admirably drawn, with her shrewd insight into character and her sophistical 
reasoning, as when she excuses Estenega for kissing Valencia, when a fitting 
opportunity offers, while protesting the deepest love for Chonita. “ It is the 
man of great strength and great weakness,” she contends, who alone under- 
stands human nature and is worthy to inspire the passionate love of a woman. 
In the handsome and shallow Reinaldo we find the man of “great weakness” 
without the accompanying strength, yet so brave a caballero is he, on his wedding 
morn, in his white velvet and diamonds, that we, like Dona Eustaquia, are 
willing, for the moment, to overlook his failings and vote him “a picture to be 
thankful for.” Don Guillermo, of the old school, presents a strong contrast to 
the more progressive Alvarado and Estenega, being picturesque, chivalrous, and 
so “given to hospitality” that he was ready to share the luxuries of Casa 
Grande with the sworn enemy of his house, even to Dona Trinidad’s most 
famous dulces. Chonita, entering the lists reluctantly at the bidding of Este- 
nega, and then dancing El Son with mind and soul as well as with her lithe 
and swaying form, until the Caballeros threw gold at her feet in their enthu- 


128 


RECENT AMERICAN FICTION. 


siastic admiration of the beautiful wild creature, forms a brilliant and vivid 
picture. 

Full of the traditions of her religion and her race, educated and thoughtful 
beyond the men as well as the women of her people, yet, like them, delighting 
in the cruel excitement of a bull-fight, and unable to resist the seductions of the 
vender of silks, laces, and jewels, such is the heroine who flashes across these 
pages and before the fascinated gaze of Estenega. To him, who has regarded 
women simply as types, with no distinct individuality, Chonita seems a new 
creation. He says to Dofia Eustaquia that she typifies California, the intelli- 
gence of the New World stirring in the veins of the Old. Her power over the 
wayward and imperious nature of Estenega is an intellectual and spiritual force, 
heightened, as all such power of woman over man must ever be, by the beauty 
and grace in which it is incarnate. 

Upon the social life of Monterey, where the gorgeously-apparelled Caballe- 
ros and the beautiful senoritas while away the rosy hours in the excitements 
of the bull-fight and the gaming-table or amid the blandishments of the ball- 
room and the f&te, Estenega, with his nineteenth-century ideas and costume, 
and his dreams for the future of California, expressed in the language of to-day, 
strikes a jarring note, — the jar of the new dispensation trenching on the domain 
of the old. With his background of sin, most of which is happily left to the im- 
agination of the reader, and his fierce, resolute, almost cruel strength of will, 
Estenega is a less agreeable character to contemplate than the pure-minded, im- 
pulsive Chonita, yet none the less is it true to life and to love that he should have 
been able to thrill every chord in the complex nature of the California girl and 
against all the instincts of her race compel her unwilling devotion. The bitter, 
passionate struggle between Chonita’s love for Estenega and her loyalty to the 
traditions of her religion and people recalls a similar struggle in “ The Spanish 
Gypsy,” in which another passionate daughter of the South strives to put aside 
love and happiness for the sake of her duty to her race and inheritance. In 
both these instances the woman proves herself superior to the man. Chonita 
and Fedalma, in their higher spirituality and more earnest devotion to their own 
ideals of right, are nobler creations than Estenega or Don Silva, and in both cases 
the man’s uncontrolled passion of anger and revenge slays all hope of happy 
love, even when the woman’s instincts and traditions w’ere about to yield to its 
dominant power. That “ The Doomswoman” should end as sadly as its name 
forebodes may seem a fault to some readers ; but from the nature, structure, and 
tendencies of the story, no other ending would seem to us fitting. This is not a 
novel, it is a drama in which the blood of old Spain and Mexico, amid the wild 
and picturesque surroundings of Southern California, works out its own destiny 
to an inevitable, if tragic, conclusion. 

Whatever Mrs. Atherton has done in the past, — and she has published a 
number of novels, none of which seem to us equal to “ The Doomswoman,” — 
whatever she may write in the future, she has given to the world a powerful 
dramatic representation of old California life, which in its detail, movement, 
and characteristics shows that she has not only carefully studied the history 
and institutions of the country, but has entered into the life and spirit of its 
people, far more Spanish than American in type, yet inherently tending toward 
absorption by the dominant Anglo-Saxon race. 


Anne H. Wharton. 


BOOKS OF THE MONTH. 


129 


BOOKS OF THE MONTH. 

“ The relics of our old army days are few now ; but occasion- 
ally in unpacking our chests and trunks, stowed away in a 
garret, I find something that brings by-gone years vividly 
before me ; it may be a tarnished shoulder-strap, a spur, or 
a big knife in its leather sheath ; each has its history,” — and 
it is this history, but of men, as well as of their apparel and weapons, that Mrs. 
Lydia Spencer Lane has told in her simple, direct narrative of soldier-life on 
the frontier before and during the war. She was an enduring and faithful wife 
to a brave husband, and lived through the period previous to railroads, when 
journeys to the Far West were menaced with dangers on all sides. The naive 
manner in which Mrs. Lane recounts the ups and downs of this life, the laugh- 
able or tender episodes which intersperse her story, — as of the young wife dying 
by the roadside, and the grave there, from which, many years afterwards, the 
authoress took back some blades of grass to friends of the dead girl, — all these, 
with many martial anecdotes, go to make up a book as fascinating as fiction, but 
as true, one feels in reading it, as life. The Lippincott press has just put forth 
I Married a Soldier in a typical uniform of blue and gray, though the preference 
of the authoress for the former is indicated in her ringing words, “When was 
the flag ever more needed than in those anxious days before war was declared, 
to cheer the weak-hearted and bid defiance to its enemies?” 

When the thoughts of even the greatest thinkers come to us 

Six Volumes. By , , . . . n 

John Darby (Dr. J. through the medium of a sympathetic mind they very often 

E. Garretson). New take on not only a larger significance, but become human - 
and Uniform Edi- i ze( j by contact with the heart of the reporter. Any one 
who has ever read John Darby knows this without being 
told. Those who have not will find Plato less intangible, Epicurus and Spinoza, 
or Comte and his disciple Lewes, more within human ken, for being rendered 
through so fine an understanding and so warm a heart. Dr. Garretson’s books 
are the harvests of a cultivated intellect which has tilled many and wide fields 
of learning and come off with a well-stored garner. This yield is never dull, 
never pedantic, never obscure. He says things in his own person which make 
us pause, and he shows that his power to do this has come from acquaintance 
with all that is best in human annals, by quoting with infinite skill and taste 
from the words of the masters. No similar books that we know are at once so 
learned and so readable, and the announcement that the Messrs. Lippincott 
are about to bring forth a uniform set of Dr. Garretson’s six volumes will be 
a pleasure to old, and a source of many new, readers. The titles of the six 
volumes are Thinkers and Thinking , Hours with John Darby , Brushland , Odd 
Hours of a Physician, Nineteenth Century Sense, and Man and his World. 

Of Jane Austen and Shakespeare Tennyson once said that 
he thanked God he knew nothing, and that there were 
none of their letters preserved. This is the controlling im- 
pulse which led to Tennyson’s retirement from the world 
and which has caused the scarcity of information about the 
Indeed, we to-day know almost as little about the inner 
movements of that long and illustrious life as we do about Shakespeare or Jane 
Vol. LI.— 9 


Lord Tennyson. A 
Biographical Sketch. 
By Henry J. Jen- 
nings. A New Edi- 
tion. 

details of his life. 


I Married a Soldier ; 
or, Old Days in the 
Old Army. By Lydia 
Spencer Lane. 


130 


BOOKS OF THE MONTH. 


Austen. It is, therefore, a wise and a most acceptable service which Mr. Henry 
J. Jennings has done us, in this year of the Laureate’s death, to gather into 
a single volume all the scattered Tennysoniana which has lain ungarnered up 
and down the periodicals and in private letters. Mr. Jennings has greatly 
improved, in this volume just issued by the Lippincotts, on the now scarce 
Tennysoniana, and on his own earlier edition. He informs us that his manu- 
script passed through the hands of a near member of Tennyson’s family before 
its publication, and his book is thus purged of the ban which the Laureate is 
known to have placed on all biographical intrusion. As a piece of painstaking 
compilation and as a picture of the greatest poet of his age, it is a volume indis- 
pensable to every one who owns a set of Tennyson's works. 

If ever you go to Japan, go with a companion like Douglas 

The Japs at Home. Si a Jen. Nothing escapes his eye, nothing eludes his keen 
By Douglas Sladen. . , , 

mind, and everything sparkles with the reflection of ins 
humor. Since the Girl in the Karpathians, no book of travel has so vividly 
described the scenes and people of its chosen pilgrimage; but Mr. Sladen has 
wit and light-heartedness, while Miss Dowie had neither. Mr. Sladen saw all 
that was characteristic in Japan under the most favorable conditions. He was 
the guest of the exclusive clubs, and was entertained by Sir Edwin Arnold, of 
whom, in his Jap household, he gives a lively and interesting sketch. The pic- 
tures which ornament almost every one of the handsome pages, the full-page 
photogravures, and the japonais cover are a fitting complement to a charming 
text, and render the book a notable addition to the Lippincott list. 

The New Illustrated Bible carried with it a series of intro- 
Book by Book. Pop- ductions which prefaced each book and which were the prod- 
Canon of Scripture. uct °* ^e ablest ecclesiastical scholars in England. These 

essays have now been gathered separately into the noble 
volume just issued by the J. B. Lippincott Company, entitled Book by Book ; 
and they afford the devout, but lay, student of the Scriptures a means of learn- 
ing the latest views of religious thinkers on subjects of the most vital interest to 
modern life. Book by Book contains essays by the Bishop of Ripon, Arch- 
deacon Farrar, the late Prof. W. G. Elmslie, Prof. Marcus Dods, Rev. George 
Salmon, Prof. William Sanday, the Bishop of Worcester, Very Rev. H. D. M. 
Spence, Prof. A. B. Davidson, Prof. Stanley Leathes, Rev. Canon Maclear, 
Prof. James Robertson, and Prof. William Milligan. 

Prof. Andrew Jamieson, Professor of Engineering in the 
Glasgow and West of Scotland Technical College, aud 
fellow of a number of learned societies, comes to the 
making of a book like this with a ripe experience in teach- 
ing, united to the widest knowledge of his subject. He has 
produced some of the most valuable text-books known to 
his branch of mechanics, and they have received the recog- 
nition due to their worth in this country and in his own. This last contribution 
to a subject which is beginning to be somewhat obscured through teaching 
which misapprehends the needs of the student, strives to take the direct course 
of practice first and theory last. Prof. Jamieson takes wise exception to those 
who would teach the laws of motion before those laws have been illustrated by 
simple machines and hydraulics, and his text-book is a test of his wisdom. It 
is brought out by the J. B. Lippincott Company in an appropriate dress. 


Applied Mechanics 
(A n Elementary 
Manual on). By 
Andrew Jamieson, 
M. Inst. C.E. With 
Numerous Illustra- 
ted Experiments. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


131 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Continuous and 
increased use 
attest the 
great 
merit 
of 
the 
Royal 
Baking 
Powder. 


The sales of 
Royal Baking Powder 
during the month 
of October, 1892, 
were greater 
than during any 
other October in 
the history of 
the Company. 

This increase 
alone exceeds in amount 
the total sales per month of 
any other baking powder. 


New York, November 15, 1892. 


132 


CURRENT NOTES. 


“France in the Nineteenth Century,” by Elizabeth Wormley Lati- 
mer, is a handsome octavo of four hundred and fifty pages, published in Chicago 
by A. C. McClurg & Co. After an introductory chapter upon Charles X., the 
thread of the narrative is taken up with the accession of Louis Philippe, and 
carried on for sixty years to 1890. Without pretence to the dignity of first- 
hand research or the dry utility of text-book histories, there is a mingling of 
solid information and agreeable gossip about events and personages, the revolu- 
tions, the last king, the second empire, the siege, the commune, and the republic, 
besides the lamentable Mexican episode of poor Maximilian — well-meant usur- 
pation of a good man who fell in a bad cause. And on French soil this period 
afforded plenty of excellent material, here so handled as to command popular 
iuterest. There are twenty-two portraits of emperors, kings, queens, presidents, 
and pretenders, with such notable public men as Lamartine, the Due de Morny, 
Jules Simon, Jules Favre, Archbishop Darboy (victim of the communards), 
Gambetta, and Boulanger. 

A Way out of the Difficulty. — It was the late Henry Ward Beecher, 

I think, who related and vouched for the following. A large and a small dog 
happened to start from opposite sides of a stream at the same time to cross it 
over a narrow board which spanned it. They met in the middle. Both came 
to a stop, for they could not pass each other on the narrow board. The little 
dog sat down on the board, held up his head, and began to whine. The big dog 
stood a moment, apparently cogitating what to do, when suddenly a thought 
struck him. He spread his fore legs apart to the outer edges of the board, also 
his hind legs, and then looked at the little dog, as much as to say, “ Now is your 
time !” whereupon the little fellow shot through between the big dog’s legs and 
safely reached the other side, wagging his tail with delight and approval of so 
clever a trick; while the big fellow walked philosophically over to his side, no 
doubt well satisfied with himself, as he certainly had good reason to be. — Allen 
Pringle, in The Popular Science Monthly. 

California. — California is the most attractive and delightful section of 
the United States, if not of the world, and its many beautiful resorts will be 
crowded with the best families of the East during the entire winter. It offers 
to the investor the best open opportunity for safe and large returns from its fruit- 
lands. It offers the kindest climate in the world to the feeble and debilitated ; 
and it is reached in the most comfortable manner over the Atchison, Topeka & 
Santa Fe Railroad. Pullman Vestibule Sleeping-Cars leave Chicago by this 
line every day in the year, and go, without change or transfer, through to San 
Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego. This is a feature not offered by any 
other line. 

Write to John J. Byrne, 621 Rialto Building, Chicago, 111., if you desire any 
further information as to the country and the accommodations for reaching it. 

Lord Tennyson married at the age of forty-one, — which is one reason, 
perhaps, why it is thought that he was disappointed in love while young. His 
wife was a niece of Sir John Franklin. Her father, Mr. Sellwood, a lawyer by 
profession, is reported to have been somewhat unfavorably impressed with the 
alliance at first; but afterwards he was entirely reconciled to it. Before the 
marriage, Tennyson had, of course, achieved fame. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


133 



crop ol colds, coughs, bronchitis, and pneumonia being 
sure to follow. To meet such an emergency, you should 
be provided with Ayer’S Cherry Pectoral, the prompt 
use of which is always attended with the most satisfactory 
results. It soothes irritation of the mucous membrane, 
removes phlegm, and induces repose. The best-known 
cough-cure in the world, it is recommended by eminent 
physicians, and is the favorite preparation with preach- 
ers, teachers, actors, and singers. In cases of croup, 
whooping cough, and La Grippe, Ayer’s Cherry Pecto- 
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most prompt and effective remedy for biliousness, nausea, costiveness, 
indigestion, sluggishness of the liver, jaundice, drowsiness, pain in the 
side, and sick headache; also, to relieve colds, fevers, neuralgia, and 
rheumatism. They are taken with great benefit in chills and the dis- 
eases peculiar to the South. 

Ayer’s Cathartic Pills 

Prepared by Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass. 

Every Dose Effective 


134 


CURRENT NOTES. 


“ Manhattan, Historic and Artistic,” is a new and superior guide to 
New York City, which allows for “a six-days’ tour” of the metropolis, and con- 
tains sufficient descriptions and illustrations of the most notable objects therein. 
The compilers are C. F. Ober and Cynthia M. Westover, and the publishers 
Lovell. Coryell & Co. 

Bent on Vengeance. — A most remarkable case of bovine intelligence 
which recently came to my knowledge, and for the truth of which I can vouch, 
has prompted the writing of this paper. A cow and steer — the latter two to 
three years old — were the only occupants of the barn-yard where the occurrence 
took place. A baiting of hay was put out to them, the cow taking possession. 
The steer wished to share it ; but the cow, like some higher animals, was selfish 
and was bent on taking the whole of it, and as often as he would manoeuvre 
around from side to side to get a bite she would drive him off at the point of 
her horn. The steer was so persistent that at last the old cow’s patience gave 
way, and, making a determined and vicious charge on him, she punished him 
severely, though he was her own offspring. The steer felt badly hurt, not only in 
body but evidently in mind as well, and immediately started out of the yard and 
off down the lane toward the pasture where were the rest of the stock, bellowing 
vengeance at every step in a language which was unmistakable to the by-stander, 
and which the mother well understood, as she ceased eating and listened in- 
tently to the threatenings of what was to come. When these died away in the 
distance she resumed her ration, but with evident apprehension. In due time 
the steer was seen returning, bringing with him a companion larger and stronger 
than himself. As they approached, the rumblings of rage and revenge could be 
again heard, which grew louder as they came nearer. The cow took in the 
situation at once, and was now terror-stricken. As her assailants rushed into the 
yard, she dodged them and rushed out at life-and-death speed, and away toward 
the rest of the stock in the field, with her pursuers close in her track. — Allen 
Pringle, in The Popular Science Monthly. 

“ How do you pronounce s-t-i-n-g-y ?” asked a teacher of the dunce of the 
class. The boy replied, “ It depends a good deal on whether the word refers to a 
person or a bee.” — Puck. 

The banana is the most productive of the fruits of the earth, being forty- 
four times more productive than the potato and one hundred and thirty-one 
times more productive than wheat. 

“ Bill, there’s a deal of poetry about the moon, after all !” 

“Tom, there ain’t no poetry in nothink when it gits down to its last quar- 
ter.” — Life. 

Saw it from the Start. — Mr. and Mrs. O’Halligan came to blows in'the 
open street. Their friend Mike, who has witnessed this and other sharp en- 
gagements between them, is called upon to testify. 

“ Were you present from the very commencement of this difficulty ?” 

“ Indade I was, yer honor ; two years ago.” 

“ Two years ago !” 

“ I attinded the weddin’.” — The Wasp. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


135 



In the list of good 
resolutions for ’93 why not 
include health betterment? 

If too thin, too weak or nervous it 
must be that food assimilation is 
wrong. Better appetite and digestion 
do not alone insure increase of flesh. 
But if both are gained while the sys- 
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then results — flesh and strength — are quickly 
noted. A powerful example of how the first two 
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Shall we send yon a book on Development of Strength and Form ? — Free, 


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Sold by all Druggists— $1, 



136 


CURRENT NOTES. 


The thermometer was at ninety-five, and a shower was commencing. Willie 
was mopping his brow with his little handkerchief, as the first big drops began 
to fall. He watched them for a while, then exclaimed, “ Oh, look, mamma ! 
Even that cloud is perspiring!” 

The Human Instinct in Them.— Mr. Spence, the entomologist, told the 
story of a humble-bee having been seen to deliberately drown a wasp, after 
there had been a fierce struggle between them. The bee did not mutilate the 
wasp, as if it had been the property of a “ land-grabber,” but he held him under 
the surface of the water till he was dead. This quarrel resulted doubtless from 
some private pique, and was not a judicial sentence carried out by the will of the 
community, as in the incident I am about to relate. 

My informant, who stated he was an eye-witness of the occurrence, was 
a Danish gentleman, Baron Durchinek Holmfeld, whose acquaintance I made 
through our common friend, Miss Frederica Rowan. 

He told me that, some years since, the nest belonging to a pair of storks, 
located near his.house, was observed to be the scene of a domestic scandal : the 
lady stork had a lover. The husband bird was not one who “ lets the wife whom 
he knows false abide and rule the house,” and he sought the remedy of the law. 
The baron one day when walking over his fields was surprised to see a large 
assemblage of storks standing round in a semicircle, while facing them, in the 
centre, like a prisoner at the bar, stood the guilty Guinevere. Greatly aston- 
ished, and very curious to see the issue of this strange proceeding, Baron Dur- 
chinck stood aside in concealment. There was much confabulation among the 
storks, after which, apparently in obedience to orders, some half-dozen birds, 
the lictors of the community, came out from the throng, and immediately set 
upon the unhappy female, savagely and literally plucking her to death ! — Mrs. 
Andrew Crosse, in Temple Bar. 

Such Interruptions did not interrupt. — The late Lord Strathnairn 
owed his peerage to the great services which, as Sir Hugh Rose, he rendered to 
the crown at a critical time in the history of India. During a crisis in the 
Sepoy mutiny he was one day entertaining a company at dinner, and was in the 
midst of one of his best stories, when his orderly entered, and, after saluting him, 
reported, “ We have captured two hundred rebels, sir.” The general calmly 
turned, and with his wonted elegant courtesy serenely replied, “ Thank you, 
sergeant.” After a silence the soldier again spoke: “But what are we to do 
with them,' sir?* “Hang them, of course,” calmly replied his superior, re- 
suming his story. A short time afterward, Sir Hugh was again interrupted 
by the sergeant, and said, “ Please, sir, we have hung the lot, sir.” The general 
turned, bowed silently, and in the sweetest manner lisped, “Thanks, sergeant, 
very many thanks,” and then went on with his anecdote. — The Argonaut . 


Rare Luck. — Mrs. Bloomer. — “ It’s shameful ! Mr. Silentt, who is deaf and 
dumb, is going to marry Miss Quiett, and she’s deaf and dumb.” 

Mr. B.— “ What of it?” 

“Why, just think. Their children may be deaf and dumb too.” 

“That’s all right. We’ll watch where they settle, and move in next door 
to ’em .” — New York Weekly. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


137 









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THE DOLIBER-GOODALE CO., Boston, Mass. 


138 


CURRENT NOTES. 


War’s Cruelty.— An incident related in the recent biography of Sir 
Provo Wallis, Admiral of the British Fleet, brings home to the reader the cruel 
nature of war. It occurred during the war of 1812. An American captain had 
taken a fine ship to Lisbon, where he had sold her cargo for the use of the 
British army under Wellington, and received several thousands of dollars in 
return, which were on board. 

Meantime, war bad been declared, and on her homeward voyage she fell a 
victim to the British squadron. One of the principal objects of her captors was 
to obtain information. The American captain was sent on board the Shannon, 
— which afterward captured the famous Chesapeake, — but was kept in ignorance 
of the war and of the fact that he was a prisoner. 

He answered unreservedly all the questions put to him, and Captain Broke, 
who greatly disliked the deception he had been obliged to practise, now felt it 
difficult to make the prisoner acquainted with the next step which must be 
taken. At length he forced himself to say, — 

“ Captain, I must burn your ship.” 

The American, overcome by surprise, faltered, “ Burn her?” 

“ Indeed I must.” 

“ Burn her for what? Will not money save her? She is all my own, — and 
all the property I have in the world. Is it war, then?” 

“ Yes,” said Broke. 

Both parties were painfully moved, and the scene did not end without a 
tear from each ; but duty was duty, and the prize was destroyed. 

He thought they might need it.— Man of house.— “It strikes me 
that I’ve seen your face before.” 

Stranger.— “ Yes, you have. I sold you a cook-book a year ago.” 

“ What are you selling now ?” 

“ A sure cure for dyspepsia. Only fifty cents.”— The Review. 


Knew his Business.— The lady made a great outcry, and the intruder 
was promptly caught and bound. It proved to be the gas-man come to measure 
the metre. 

“Why didn’t you say who you were when I screamed?” demanded the 
mistress of the house. 

The man looked sad. 

“ You yelled thieves, didn’t you ?” he asked, with a far-away look in his 
eyes. 

The lady admitted having so expressed herself. 

“ Well,” declared the man, desperately, “I couldn’t take any exception to 
your remarks. I knew my business and the nature thereof.” 

Everybody felt obliged to concede that he was logical, if not discreet.— The 
General Manager. 


The Answer.— “Papa,” asked Willie, “ are the gallery gods idols?” 

“ No, my son.” 

“ But why ain’t they, papa?” persisted the hopeful. 

“ Willie,” replied his astute parent, “ did you ever see them idle?”— R. L. 
Hendrick, in Kate Field's Washington. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


139 


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Why a Woman’s Ufe Insurance Company? 

A number of the more thoughtful and intelligent women of the country 
recently met in Chicago to consider the advisability of organizing a Woman’s 
Life Insurance Company. The reason was stated to be that women were un- 
justly discriminated against by existing companies. Is this true? We say, No. 
Several years ago “ The Penn Mutual Life Insurance Company” struck out 
every restriction and discrimination which existed against women, and placed 
them upon a perfect equality with men : same plans ; same cost ; same benefits ; 
everything exactly the same. What more may women desire? There are a 
million women who need life insurance, and who would have it, did they not 
in error believe the old restrictions and discriminations stand against them* 
There is no obstacle in their way to insure their lives in “The Penn Mutual.” 
It is one of the oldest, the safest, and the best companies in the world. It has 
twenty millions of assets, two and a half millions of surplus. Every policy it 
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successful experience. To know all about it, write to or call at the home office 
of the company, 921-3-5 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, or address any agent. 
Ably represented in all cities and large towns throughout the United States. 


140 


CURRENT NOTES. 


When they have too much Water.— M exico rejoices in a very fine 
climate ; it is neither too hot nor too cold, like a perpetual June, except on the 
few rare occasions when a gale of wind sweeps down from the north, and the 
sudden lowering of the temperature is felt the more through the fact that the 
houses have no chimneys, the use of stoves being quite unknown in this all but 
uninterrupted spring. 

The wet season lasts three months, and it then rains every day, almost at 
the same time, but never for more than three or six hours at a stretch. Before 
and after the storm the sun shines brightly, and the sky is clear and blue. 

If, however, by any chance there is more rain than usual, and the wet season 
is prolonged, the capital becomes nearly uninhabitable, and resembles the Aztec 
Venice destroyed by Cortes. The levels of the lakes in the valley rise, the low- 
lying districts are flooded, and the town once more looks as if it were in a 
lagoon, so entirely is it surrounded by ditches, or aceguias, full to overflowing 
of water. 

The streets are converted into rivers of mud, through which splash com- 
mission naires, their trousers rolled up to their thighs, carrying on their backs the 
unfortunate people who are obliged to go and attend to their business, whilst 
melancholy horsemen pass hidden beneath their huge white mackintosh cloaks, 
and coachmen with loud cries urge on the horses of their vehicles — I very 
nearly said, of their gondolas ! — Auguste Genin, in Harper's Weekly. 

A Question of Endurance. — Mr. Lightweight. — “ Do you believe that 
women can endure more than men ?” 

Mrs. Heavyweight. — “ Indeed I do ; there are but few men could stand most 
of the husbands.” — Fetter's Southern Magazine. 

Playwright. — “ In this scene the starving baby is rescued from the hands of 
the blood-thirsty villain.” 

Manager (doubtfully). — “ But where can we get a baby to impersonate the 
part?” 

Playwright (eagerly). — “ You can have mine.”— Life. 

Back to our childhood’s halcyon time 
Regretful memory strays : 

Though spanked for many a trivial crime, 

They were our palmy days. — Puck. 

Slight Amends.— In her “ Anecdotes,” Mrs. Thrale tells a good story of 
Johnson’s irrational antipathy to the inhabitants of North Britain. On the 
doctor’s return from the Hebrides, he was asked by a Scotch gentleman, in 
London, what he thought of his country. “ That it is a very vile country, to 
be sure, sir,” returned for answer Dr. Johnson. “ Well, sir,” replied the other, 
somewhat mortified, “God made it.” “Certainly he did,” answered Johnson, 
again; “ but we must always remember that he made it for Scotchmen, and— 
comparisons, sir, are odious, but God made hell.” 

A Stamped Cane. — A Detroit man has a novel walking-cane that is made 
of old postage-stamps of various denominations and six nationalities, — United 
States, Canadian, English, French, German, and Italian. It took five thousand 
and fourteen stamps to make the cane. The surface of the cane, when the 
stamps were all on, was filed smooth and finished until it glazed. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


141 


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Dobbins’ Electric Soap 

Is for sale everywhere, and has been ever since 1867. Acknowledged by 
all to be the best family soap in the world. We ask every woman using 
it to save the Outside Wrappers and send them to us. We will mail her, post- 
paid, the following Beautiful Presents, gratis: For two complete Outside Wrap- 
pers and Ten Cents in money or stamps, any volume of the “Surprise Series” 
of 25 cent novels, about 200 pages. Catalogue on back of wrappers. For 
twenty complete Outside Wrappers, without any cash accompanying, any 
volume of the “Surprise Series” novels. For twenty-five complete Outside 
Wrappers, any one of the following most beautiful panel pictures ever published, 
all charming studies of little girls, by the most celebrated foreign artists, made 
exclusively for us: “ La Petite,” by Throman ; “ Les Intimes,” by Thompson ; 
“Two Sisters,” by Sagin ; “Little Fisher Maiden,” by G. B. Wilson; “Little 
Charmer,” by Springer ; “ May Day,” by Havenith ; “ Heartsease,” by Springer. 
For sixty complete Outside Wrappers, a Worcester’s Pocket Dictionary, 298 
pages. 

The whole wrapper must be sent. We will not send anything for a part of 
a wrapper cut out and mailed us. Of course no wrapper can be used for two 
presents. Twenty wrappers, or over, should be securely done up like news- 
papers, with ends open, and address of sender in upper left-hand corner of 
envelope. Postage on wrappers thus done up is 2 cents for 20 or 25 wrappers, 
and 6 cents for 60 wrappers. Mail at same time postal telling us what present 

you desire. _ 

Dobbins Soap Manufacturing Co., 

119 South Fourth St., Philadelphia. 


142 


CURRENT NOTES. 


— Madame Modjeska is the daughter of a Polish mountaineer who was 
better educated than his companions, and loved music. At sixteen she was 
married to the man whose name, though she has since been widowed and 
married again, she still bears before the public. The early maturing of her 
talent is indicated by the fact that when only fourteen she wrote a drama and 
acted the leading part in it. Such was the beginning of her remarkable career; 
but more remarkable even than her stage success is her faculty for keeping 
young in looks as well as spirit. The secret of it all, Madame Modjeska says, 
is that she takes a hot bath before going to bed every night, secures plenty of 
sleep, and does not eat too much. But her additional confession, that she 
drinks a great deal of tea and smokes cigarettes occasionally, makes the secret 
as mystifying as before it was revealed. — Harper's Weekly. 

First Come First Served. — Miss Black. — “ Look a-heah, Mister Elder- 
berry Johnsing, how you cum to git dat name ‘Elderberry’? Dat’s sich a 
cu’ious name.” 

Mr. Johnsing. — ‘‘Law, Miss Lily, ain’t you never heahed about dat? My 
brudder and me’s twins. Dev done called him Berry, and dey called me 
Elderberry ’caze I was borned fust. Yah ! Yah 1” — Fetter's Southern Magazine. 

On the Tramp. — “ One fine summer evening of 1824 the inhabitants of a 
primitive northern village saw two travellers, apparently man and wife, come 
into the village dressed like tinkers or gypsies. The man was tall, broad- 
shouldered, and of stalwart build ; his fair hair floated redundant over neck and 
shoulders, his red whiskers were of portentous size. He bore himself with the 
air of a strong man rejoicing in his strength. On his back was a capacious 
knapsack, and his slouched hat, garnished with fishing-hooks and tackle, showed 
he was as much addicted to fishing as to making spoons. The appearance of 
his companion contrasted strikingly with that of her spouse. She was of slim 
and fragile form, and more like a lady in her walk and bearing than any tinker’s 
wife that had ever been seen in those parts. The natives were somewhat sur- 
prised to see this great fellow making for the best inn, the Gordon Arms, where 
the singular pair actually took up their quarters for several days. They were 
in the habit of sallying forth, each armed with a fishing-rod, a circumstance the 
novelty of which as regards the tinker’s wife excited no small curiosity, and 
many conjectures were hazarded as to the real character of the mysterious 
couple.” So wrote one who saw burly Christopher North and his wife on the 
vagabondage which Mary Howitt described as “ a species of bee and butterfly 
flight, sipping pungent juice and alighting upon bloom, for whenever they 
found a particularly romantic spot or an attractive cottage there they stopped for 
days, while the husband fished, the wife rested, and both explored the region 
round about.”— M. B. W., in Macmillan's Magazine. 

How it is Gained.— A New York lawyer, explaining his rapid increase 
in wealth as in reputation, said it was due to the tomfoolery of people. “ For 
example, a client of mine had a race-horse that he swapped for an island in the 
Sound. The race-horse went wrong, and the other man brought suit to recover 
damages. This made my client angry, and he brought suit for misrepresenta- 
tion of property. The opposing lawyer was a friend of mine. Each had two 
suits, and we fought them tooth and nail. Now he owns the race-horse and I 
own the island in the Sound.” — New York Sun. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


143 



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144 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Moderation. — M. de Garnerau was a French magistrate of great integrity 
and learning and many fine qualities. No one appreciated better than he the 
beauty and value of patience, but his naturally quick temper and irritable dis- 
position sometimes betrayed him into droll inconsistencies. 

M. de Flesselles, president of the superior council at Lyons at a time when 
the chancellor Maupeou was making great changes in the government, was 
instructed to suppress the parliament of Tr6voux, of which M. de Garnerau was 
president. 

M. de Flesselles visited TrSvoux, assembled the magistrates, and gave his 
orders. De Garnerau replied with dignity that it was his duty to obey his 
sovereign, left his place, and, followed by his associates, prepared to march out 
of the court-room. But unfortunately his valet opened the doors. Instantly M. 
de Garnerau, in a passion, threw his cap and robe on the floor, and cried, 
“ Here, Antoine, take those things ; they are only for the use of valets now 1” 

At a public meeting of the Lyons Academy, of which he was a member, he 
read a paper on “ Moderation.” The discourse was fine, but the effect was 
somewhat marred by an incident at its commencement. 

The speaker began, “ Gentlemen, moderation — Please shut that door. 

“Gentlemen, moderation is a — Will you be so kind as to shut that door? 

“ Gentlemen, moderation is a virtue — Confound you, shut that door, or I 
leave this hall !” — Youth's Companion. 

Intelligent Monkeys. — In a recent volume on “Beast and Man in 
India,” by J. Lockwood Kipling, C.I.E., the author relates interesting bits 
about monkeys. He was present on an occasion when some itinerant showmen 
brought some tame monkeys and a goat into the presence of some wild ones. 
“The wild monkeys drew off at first suspiciously, but when the man sat down 
to his performance and made their tame brethren dance, put on strange rai- 
ment and mount the goat, they crept closer, with horrified curiosity and evident 
disgust. The tame monkeys off duty regarded their free kinsmen with listless 
indifference, and the artiste at work never seemed to glance at them, though 
they watched him with jealous, angry eyes, much, I imagine, as laborers on 
strike watch blacklegs.” 

The family life of the Bengal monkeys is extremely human. “ Monkey 
mothers are tender to their little ones, with a care that endears them to the 
child-loving Oriental. The babies are quaint little mites, with the brown hair, 
that afterwards stands up crest- wise, parted in the middle of their brows ; their 
wistful faces are full of wrinkles, and their mild hazel eyes have a quick 
glancing timidity that well suits their pathetic lost-kitten-like cry. Yet even 
in the forest there are frisky matrons. I have seen a mother monkey, disturbed 
in her gambols on the ground by the whining of a tiny baby left half-way up 
an adjacent tree, suddenly break off, and, hastily shinning up the tree, snatch up 
the baby, hurry to the very topmost branch, when she plumped it down, as who 
should say, ‘ Tiresome little wretch !’ and then come down to resume her play. 
Thus is a mischievous midshipman mast-headed, and thus is the British baby 
sent up to the nursery while mamma amuses herself.” 

Friend. — “Doctor, did you ever fight a duel?” 

Doctor. — “ A duel ? No, indeed. What novelty would it be for me to kill 
a man?” — The Uasjt>. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


145 



You Needn’t Look 

immediately for the damage that 
dangerous washing compounds do. 
It’s there, and it’s going on all the 
time, but you won’t see its effects, 
probably, for several months. It 
wouldn’t do, you know, to have 
them too dangerous. 

The best way is to take no risk. 
You needn’t worry about damage 
to your clothes, if you keep to the 
original washing compound — Pearline ; 
first made and fully proved. What can 
you gain by using the imitations of it? 
Prize packages, cheaper prices, or whatever 
may by urged for them, wouldn’t pay you 
for one ruined garment. 

_ _ _ Peddlers and some unscrupulous grocers will tell you, 

P “this is as good as” or “the same as Pearline.” IT’S 
FALSE— Pearline is never peddled ; if your grocer sends 
you an imitation, be honest — send it back. 346 JAMES PYLE, New York. 


The greatest offer ever made 
by a reliable house. 

Dr. Judd’s Electric Belts and 
Trusses on six months' trial. Far 
superior to any Galvanic or Box 
Battery made. The greatest Elec- 
trical Medical discovery of the 
nineteenth century. 

For male and female. 

If you wish Health, address 
Detroit, Michigan. 



Dr. C. B. Judd, 74 West Congress Street, 



Testimony. — Within the last eighteen months we have taken in something 
over one thousand dollars for Judd’s Electric Belts and Trusses, and thus far 
have never had a complaint from a customer, but have had many compliments 
passed upon them. ' D. M. Newbro Drug Co. 

Butte City, Mont., Jan. 16, 1892. 

Vol. LI.— 10 




146 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Cervantes. — The history of “ Don Quixote” did not wait for the tardy 
fame of future ages ; it was universally read and admired as soon as it was 
published. The most eminent painters, engravers, and sculptors vied with one 
another in representing the story of the knight of La Mancha. 

The author, however, had not interest enough to obtain even the smallest 
pension from the court. But, friendless and indigent as Cervantes was, he 
retained his incomparable humor to the end of his days. Many anecdotes are 
told which illustrate the power of his wonderful book to amuse people of all 
classes. 

M. de Boulay, who attended the French ambassador to Spain, during 
Cervantes’ life, said that the ambassador complimented the author one day on 
the reputation he had acquired by his “ Don Quixote.” 

“ Ah,” whispered Cervantes in reply, coming close to the ambassador’s ear, 
“ had it not been for the Inquisition, I should have made my book much more 
entertaining 1” 

Cervantes once gave a proof that his generosity was fully equal to his genius. 
In the early part of his life he was for some time a slave in Algiers, and there 
he devised a plan to free himself and thirteen of his fellow-sufferers. 

One of them traitorously revealed the design ; and they were all brought 
before the Dey of Algiers, who promised them their lives on condition that they 
revealed the contriver of the plot. 

“ I was that person,” at once cried Cervantes ; “ save my companions, and 
let me perish alone.” 

The Dey, struck by his intrepidity, spared his life, allowed him to be ran- 
somed, and permitted him to go home. 


Natural History as a Tranquillizer.— “ A patient of Sir William 
Gull’s told me,” says a writer in Temple Bar, “that his physician had recom- 
mended him to take up natural history as a tranquillizing study. The question 
arises, are the men who pursue these studies more free from strife, jealousies, 
and all uncharitableness, than those who are struggling for supremacy in art 
and literature? Judging from the naturalists I have known, I am inclined to 
think that, as a rule, they are more tranquil-minded. Kingsley felt the truth 
of this when he said, ‘ Ere I grow too old, I trust to be able to throw away all 
pursuits save natural history, and die with my mind full of God’s facts, instead 
of men’s lies.’ ” 


George William Curtis made a very happy response to the praises of 
friends at a dinner given at the Tavern Club of Boston, some years since, upon 
his birthday. Dr. Holmes, Mr. Lowell, and President Norton had all said their 
say, and said it well, when Mr. Curtis was called upon to respond. By way of 
illustrating his own case, he told the story of an Oriental prince and his mentor. 
Prince and mentor walked abroad one day, the latter carrying in his hand a jar, 
which he presently uncorked. From the open mouth of the vessel rose a gas, 
and this the mentor lighted. Thick fumes curled up from the burning gas, and 
gradually took such shape that the prince could not help recognizing traces of 
his own features, though glorified and ennobled. “ Can it be that this pictures 
me?” asked the flattered prince. “ Yes,” smiled the mentor, “ not, however, as 
you are, but as you ought to be.” — Inter-Ocean. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


147 



ES 


QUINA-LAROCHE 


LAROCHES INVIGORATING TONIG. 


GRAND NATIONAL PRIZE OF 16,600 FRANCS. 


CONTAINING 

Peruvian Bark, Iron 

AND 

Pure Catalan Wine. 

An experience of 25 years in experimental 
analysis, together with the valuable aid extend- 
ed by the Academy of Medicine in Paris, has 
enabled M. Laroche to extract the entire active 
properties of Peruvian Bark(a result not before 
attained), and to concentrate them in an elixir, 
which possessed in the highest degree its restor- 
ative and invigorating qualities, free from the 
disagreeable bitterness of ordinary prepara- 
tions. 

This invigorating tonic is powerful in its 
effect, is easily administered, assimilates 
thoroughly and quickly with the gastric Juices, 
without deranging the action of the stomach. 

Iron and Cinchona are the most powerful 
weapons employed in the art of curing; Iron is 
tne principle of our blood, and forms its force 
and richness. Cinchona affords life to the 
organs and activity to their functions. 



Endorsed by the Medical Fac- 
ulty of Paris, and used with en- 
tire success for the cure of 

MALARIA, 

INDIGESTION, 
FEVER and AGUE. 
NEURALGIA, 

LOSS of APPETITE, 
POORNESS of BLOOD, 

WASTING DISEASES, 
and 

RETARDED 

CONVALESCENCE 


E. FQUGERA & GO., Agents, No. 30 North William street, New York. 22 rue Drouot, Paris. 





148 


CURRENT NOTES. 


The ancestors of the Zufli were wont to roast seeds, crickets, and bits of 
meat in wicker trays coated inside with gritty clay. Mr. Frank Hamilton 
Cushing, of the Bureau of Ethnology, Smithsonian Institution, visited in 1881, 
among other Pueblo tribes, the Co§oninos, of Cataract Canon, Arizona, and 
found that isolated people still using that ancient mode of dressing their food. 
He thus describes this archaic frying-pan and the mode of using it. A round 
basket tray, either loosely or closely woven, is evenly coated inside with clay, 
into which has been kneaded a very large proportion of sand, to prevent con- 
traction and consequent cracking from drying. This lining of clay is pressed, 
while still soft, into the basket as closely as possible with the hands, and then 
allowed to dry. The tray is thus made ready for use. The seeds or other 
substances to be parched are placed inside of it, together with a quantity of 
glowing wood-coals. The operator, quickly squatting, grasps the tray at oppo- 
site edges, and, by a rapid spiral motion up and down, succeeds in keeping 
the coals and seeds constantly shifting places, and turning over as they dance 
after one another around and around the tray, meanwhile blowing or puffing the 
embers with every breath to keep them free from ashes and glowing at their 
hottest .” — The Californian . 


UNSELFISHNESS. 

Pluck the flowers that bloom at thy door, 

Cherish the love that the day may send ; 

Cometh an hour when all thy store 
Vainly were offered for flower or friend. 

Gratefully take what life offereth ; 

Look to heaven, nor seek a reward. 

So shalt thou find, come life, come death, 

Earth and sky are in sweet accord. 

Louise M. Hodgkins, in Figaro. 

The Theatre. — One of the strongest proofs of the relatively small im- 
portance of the theatre in the United States is the lack of buildings built 
solely for the drama. Ia Europe, theatres bear the character of public build- 
ings, and are situated in a square with plenty of space around them. Here 
nearly all of them are crowded between the shops in business streets. They 
present externally very slight indication of their exceptional character, except 
by means of a sign-board and a frame with photographs of actors and actresses 
exposed in the open lobby. In some large cities the manager of to-day attempts, 
by adorning the front entrances of his building, to give it something of an 
artistic air; but in the majority of towns the lack of respect for the appearance 
of the theatre is appalling. Very often one has to pass through a drug-store to 
the stage, and both of those establishments are frequently under the same 
management. The arrangements behind the scenes are still worse, and, though 
I have learned not to expect too much, I cannot be reconciled to the appearance 
of the stage entrances and to the condition of the dressing-rooms. There is an 
unpardonable negligence in this regard on the part of the local managers, who 
seem to consider nothing but the box-office. The actor, during the intervals of 
his work, has not even the chance of resting or breathing in his dingy dressing- 
room, which is without air, or rather is filled with bad air, and in its equipment 
is both shabby and unclean.” — Madame Modjeska, in The Forum. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


149 


THE BEST IN THE WORLD 

BlacKweir? 

Bull Durban) 
SrooKipg Tobacco 

Situated in the immediate section of country that produces a grade 
of tobacco, that in texture, flavor and quality is not grown elsewhere 
in the world, and being in position to command the choice of all offer- 
ings upon this market, we spare no pains nor expense to give the trade 

THE VERY BE5T. 

When in want of the best ; ask for 

Bull Durban). 

Sold everywhere. None genuine without the 
Trade Mark of the Bull on each package. 

BLACKWELL’S DURHAM TOBACCO CO., 

DURHAM, N. C. 




PROVIDENT LIFE AND TRUST CO. 
of Philadelphia. 

Safe Investments. Low Kate of Mortality. Low Expense Rate. 
Unsurpassed in everything which makes Life Insurance reliable and 
moderate in cost. 

Has never in its entire history contested a death loss. 


Bird-Manna !— The great secret of the canary-breeders 
of the Hartz Mountains, Germany. Bird-Manna will restore 
the song of cage-birds, will prevent their ailments, and restore 
them to good condition. If given during the season of shedding 
feathers it will, in most cases, carry the little musician through 
this critical period without loss of song. Sent by mail on re- 
ceipt of 15 cents in stamps. Sold by Druggists. Directions free. 
Bird Food Company, 400 North Third Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 



150 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Economy with a Vengeance. — What a wonderful change has been 
produced in all our habits by the ready means of obtaining light out of the 
material formerly extracted from human effete matter, and now from old bones ! 
Before its application to matches it is calculated that every man, woman, and 
child spent ninety hours yearly in getting light and fire, or rather that they 
would have done so if they had used such means as freely as we do now. At 
present the consumption of phosphorus matches per head of the population 
amounts to eight daily, and, as each match consumes fifteen seconds in its use, 
two minutes are spent for the whole day, or twelve hours for the year. If we 
calculate the economy of time to the population of the United States by this 
simple invention, each person saves seventy-eight hours yearly, or, say, ten 
working days, which, represented in labor, cost at half a dollar per day for the 
sixty-two millions of the population in the United States, gives an aggregate 
economy of three hundred and ten million dollars yearly. — Lyon Playfair, 
in The North American Review. 

About Mars. — The diameter of Mars in miles is about forty-two hundred, 
so that its surface is about three-tenths that of our earth, and its volume about 
one-seventh. Its mass is about one-ninth of the earth’s mass, and its density 
is some seven-tenths. Its gravity is thirty-eight one-hundredths ; that is, a body 
weighing one hundred pounds on the earth would weigh but thirty-eight on 
Mars. It rotates on its axis in twenty-four hours, thirty-seven minutes, and 
twenty-three seconds, — that is, in about the same time as the earth ; it is 
flattened at the poles like the earth, and its equator is inclined to its orbit just 
as the earth’s is, and by something like the same amount. It receives about 
three-sevenths as much of the sun’s light and heat as falls upon the earth It 
seems to be certain, moreover, that the atmosphere of Mars contains a consider- 
able amount of watery vapor. The researches of M. Gerigny show that the 
tides on Mars have little to do with the changes observed on its surface. These 
figures show, on the whole, a family likeness between Mars and the earth. 
Mars is considerably smaller than our planet, but it apparently presents many 
analogies to it.— Professor Edward S. Holden, in The Forum. 

An Eminent French Scholar.— “ I was,” writes Renan, “brought up 
by women and priests, and therein lies the whole explanation of my good 
qualities and of my defects.” In most that he wrote is the tenderness of 
woman, only now and then a little touch of the priest showing itself, mostly in 
a reluctance to spoil the ivy by tearing down some prison built by superstition. 

He was one of the gentlest of men, — one of the fairest in discussion, dis- 
senting from the views of others with modesty, presenting his own with clearness 
and candor. His mental manners were excellent. He was not positive as to 
the “ unknowable.” He said, “ perhaps.” He knew that knowledge is good if 
it increases the happiness of man ; and he felt that superstition is the assassin 
of liberty and civilization. He lived a life of cheerfulness, of industry, de- 
voted to the welfare of mankind. He was a seeker of happiness by the high- 
way of the natural, a destroyer of the dogmas of mental deformity, a worshipper 
of Liberty and the Ideal. As he lived, he died, — hopeful and serene ; and now, 
standing in imagination by his grave, we ask, Will the night be eternal? 
The brain says, Perhaps ; while the heart hopes for the Dawn. — Robert G. 
Ingersoll, in The North American Review. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


151 



Lydia Pinkham : — “ My son, I was just thinking how our little group of 
three generations so strongly demonstrates and illustrates my theory of the 
transmission of health from mother to child ; and what can be more striking than 
the fact that my vigorous health is reproduced in your darling children ?” 

The normal life, well-being, and happiness of mankind depend upon the 
physical health and perfection of Woman. 

Thousands of women in all parts of the civilized world cherish grateful 
remembrance of the Vegetable Compound, and daily bless its discoverer. 

Send stamp for “Guide to Health and Etiquette,” a beautiful illustrated 
book. 

Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound is the only Positive Cure 
and Legitimate Remedy for the peculiar weaknesses and ailments of women. 

All Druggists sell it as a standard article. 

Lydia E. Pinkham Med. Co., Lynn. Mass. 

Consumption Cured.— An old physician, retired from practice, had 
placed in his hands by an East India missionary the formula of a simple 
vegetable remedy for the speedy and permanent cure of Consumption, Bron- 
chitis, Catarrh, Asthma, and all Throat and Lung Affections, also a positive and 
radical cure for Nervous Debility and all Nervous Complaints. Having tested 
its wonderful curative powers in thousands of cases, and desiring to relieve 
human suffering, I will send, free of charge, to all who wish it, this recipe in 
German, French, or English, with full directions for preparing and using. Sent 
by mail, by addressing, with stamp, naming this magazine, W. A. Noyes, 820 
Powers’ Block , Rochester , N. Y. 


A Short Chapter in Guyot History.— A large outfitter, wishing to 
create a little stir in business, advertised Genuine (?) Guyot Suspenders at 
Twenty-five (25) Cents per pair! 

He placed in a large box a few of the Genuine and a large number of the 
imitation. Many buyers who bought their supply of suspenders were deceived, 
as they imagined they were buying all Genuine Guyots. 

One man, when making his purchase, asked the salesman, “Are these the 


152 


CURRENT NOTES. 


Genuine Guyots?” “Yes, sir, they are,” was the reply. “All of them?” 
“ Yes, sir,” was the reply again. 

A few days after this occurrence the large outfitter received word that he 
would be at once prosecuted for selling goods under false pretences, and it was 
only through the efforts of a mutual friend that the proceedings were stopped, 
with a positive promise from the outfitter that it would never occur again. 

This is liable to happen to any dealer who attempts to palm off on his cus- 
tomers, under the name of Guyots, anything but the Genuine article, made by 
Ch. Guyot, at Paris, France. 

A curious incident came to my notice some years ago in connection with 
a horse that had for many years borne an unsullied record, but which suddenly 
developed an apparent viciousness impossible to account for. The horse was 
driven in a tally-ho coach. He was beautiful, and, though high-spirited, 
gentle; but upon several occasions he surprised his master by fretting and 
plunging in harness and demoralizing the other horses, and finally he disgraced 
himself by running away. 

The first offence was overlooked, and the animal was retained and driven 
alone ; after a long period of docility he again ran away, when it was decided 
that he could no longer be trusted with the lives of the family. His fate was 
sealed, and he was sold at a great sacrifice. 

The new owner found his purchase satisfactory in every way, and concluded 
that the past misdoings of the horse were attributable to careless grooms. One 
night, when being driven in a sleigh, the horse began rearing and plunging ; he 
finally became unmanageable and started off in a mad run, which resulted in a 
demolished sleigh. It was again decided that the horse should be sold, and 
arrangements were made accordingly. During the examination of the mouth 
of the horse, a bright spot was observed between his teeth, which was presumed 
to be a filling, as the horse was of value; but upon closer scrutiny it proved to 
be a galvanized tack which had probably been taken with his food, and had 
been wedged between his teeth, and by pressing upon them had, at times, 
occasioned excessive agony. This it was that had repeatedly rendered the poor 
animal frantic with pain, so that he had lost all control of himself. The tack 
was removed, and the horse proved himself kind, gentle, and trustworthy under 
all circumstances. — C. M. Pennington, in Our Animal Friends. 

What curiosities there are in our use of language! We speak of going 
away to spend the summer, when in reality we go away and spend our money; 

• or, as Jerome wrote in the guests’ book at Bermuda, “ I came to Bermuda for a 

• change and for rest. The waiters got the change, and the landlords got the rest.” 
•—Outing. 

Reported Verbatim. — Belle. — “ Isn’t it horrible how the Chinese women 
•squeeze their feet?” 

Blanche. — “Yes, and that isn’t their worst suffering. In China one’s age is 
■ counted two years back from the first birthday.” — Kate Field's Washington. 

“How are you feeling this morning?” said Culpepper to a stranger who 
walked into his office yesterday. 

The stranger produced a pencil and scrap of paper and wrote, “ I can’t 
i complain.” — Fetter's Southern Magazine. 


CURRENT NOTES. 


153 



THE OLD WAY. THE NEW WAY. 


A REVOLUTION IN THE SHOE-TRADE. 

W HEN the census was taken in the year 1880 the East had a complete 
monopoly in the manufacture of shoes, and not only did the New Eng- 
land shoe district manufacture nearly all the boots and shoes sold in the country, 
but Boston had entire control of the trade, shipping hundreds of thousands of 
cases to the different States and cities. At that time very few shoes were manu- 
factured in the West; custom-made shoes were of course made in all the cities, 
but there was scarcely any manufacturing on what may be called a wholesale 
scale. In St. Louis, for instance, the annual output was valued at something 
like half a million dollars, and the trade was supplied almost exclusively from 
the New England houses. 

Since that time a distinct revolution has taken place in the shoe-trade of 
this country, the result of which is that St. Louis, instead of being an unimpor- 
tant factor as it was ten or twelve years ago, is now the greatest manufacturing 
city on the continent, and, with the single exception of Boston, the largest boot- 
and shoe-distributing centre in America, if not in the world. It now manufac- 
tures over one hundred thousand pairs of shoes every week in the year, and its 
annual product, instead of being worth about half a million dollars, is now 
valued at about ten millions. When it is remembered that the price of boots 
and shoes has fallen heavily during the period named, it will be seen how enor- 
mous ha 3 been the increase in the manufacturing output of the great Western 
metropolis which is forging its way so rapidly to the front in every branch’ of 
manufacture and commerce. The actual figures, as shown by the census returns 
of 1890, indicate an increase in the number of boot and shoe establishments 
during the ten years from one hundred and eighty-four to five hundred and one, 
with an increase in capital from seven hundred thousand to nearly four million 
dollars. The ratio of increase is well maintained in the number of employees, 
in spite of the rapid increase in the use of labor-saving machinery, for con- 


154 


CURRENT NOTES. 


siderably upwards of three thousand five hundred persons are reported as find- 
ing regular employment in thelwot- and shoe-manufactories of St. Louis. The 
annual payment in wages increased from half a million dollars to more than a 
million and a half, and the value of the product increased from about a million 
and a half to about five millions. 

These are big figures, and they represent very fairly the extraordinary in- 
crease in this manufacture in St. Louis during the eighties. But they do not 
indicate to any appreciable extent the enormous growth of the shoe-trade of St. 
Louis, which is now one of the most remarkable shoe-distributing centres in 
the world. Possessing within a five-hundred-mile radius a larger population 
than any other American city, it is evidently supplying boots and shoes to an 
enormous percentage of the population of the United States ; so much so, indeed, 
that the actual value of foot-wear distributed from St. Louis yearly is in excess 
of thirty millions. Of the shoe -factories in the city, thirty-three may be classed 
in the front rank, and one of them is said to be the largest shoe-manufactory 
under one roof in the world. The industry being a comparatively new one in 
St. Louis, the buildings are all modern in design and construction, and admirably 
adapted for the purpose for which they are intended. They have been equipped 
with the most modern machinery, and their output, as indicated by the returns, 
as well as by the reports of commercial and other agencies, is enormous, and in- 
creasing daily. So heavy, indeed, is the demand that much inconvenience was 
caused by closing down on Thanksgiving Day, and the time thus lost was made 
up, in some factories, during the same week. 

But great as is the output, and popular as are the St.-Louis-made boots and 
shoes in the Western, Southwestern, and Southern States, the shipments into 
St. Louis from Boston have increased almost as remarkably as the local manu- 
factures. In the year 1890 St. Louis received from Boston, for local-trade pur- 
poses and for distribution in the territory tributary to it, 244,000 cases of shoes, as 
compared with about 300,000 shipped to Chicago, and a similar quantity to 
New York. In 1891 St. Louis took 310,000 cases, and in 1892 the total up to 
November 1 was 322,300 cases; and as the receipts since that date have been 
very heavy, the total for the year will approximate, if it does not exceed, 400,000 
cases. Chicago’s total for 1892 will be about 300,000, New York’s 250,000, 
Baltimore’s 180,000, and Philadelphia’s and Cincinnati’s about 140,000, each, 
with no other city in the race. 

These figures indicate as clearly as possible that St. Louis has effected a 
revolution in the shoe-trade, and that before the end of the century it will be by 
far the largest boot- and shoe-manufacturing and distributing point on the con- 
tinent. Its facilities for manufacturing are so great, coal is so cheap, and its 
railroad facilities are so remarkable, that there seems no limit to its future in 
any line of manufacture, and more particularly in a branch in which it has 
already attained such phenomenal success and universal popularity as in boots 
and shoes. 


The February Number 

OF 

LIPPINCOTT’S magazine, 

• f^ERDY kJRfiURt^Y 20 • — 

Will contain a Complete Novel 
entitled 

THE FIRST FLIGHT. 

BY JUL/EN GORDON , 

AUTHOR OF “A DIPLOMAT’S DIARY,” “A SUCCESSFUL MAN,” ETC. 
(Illustrated by F. L. V. Hoppin.) 

Also, 

JOSIAH’S ALARM, 

By JOSIAH ALLEN’S WIFE. 

Also, 

MEN WHO REIGNED: 

BENNETT, GREELEY, RAYMOND, PRENTICE, AND FORNEY. 

(A Continuation of the Journalist Series.) 

By HON. JOHN RUSSELL YOUNG. 

Also, 

WRESTLING. 

(A CONTINUATION OF THE ATHLETIC SERIES.) 

By H. L. WOLFF. 

AND THE USUAL VARIETY OF STORIES, ESSAYS, POEMS, ETC. 

This Number will be Profusely Illustrated. 

FOR LIST OF COMPLETE NOVELS CONTAINED IN FORMER NUMBERS, 

SEE NEXT PAGE. 


a 


The COMPLETE NOVELS which have already appeared in 

LIPPINCOTT’S MAGAZINE, 

and which are always obtainable, are: 

No. 301. “A PACIFIC ENCOUNTER ” By Mary.E. Stickney. 

No. 300. “ PEARCE All EPSON'S WILL” By Richard Malcolm Johnston. 

No. 299. “ MORE THAN KIN” . . By Marion Harland 

No. 293. « THE KISS OF GOLD” ' . By KateJordan 

No. 297. “ THE DOOMS WO MAN” Bv Gertrude Atherton' 

No. 296. B THE MA R TLET SEAL” By Jeannette H Walworth" 

No. 295. “ WHITE HERON” * . B y M G. McClellan d' 

S°‘ <A Keutuc, 'V Title of the Olden Time) . . By James Lane Allen! 

No. 293. “THE GOLDEN FLEECE” By Julian Hawthorne 

No. 292. “ BUT MEN MUST W ORK” By Rosa Nouchette Carev 

No. 291. “ A SOLDIER'S SECRET” * Bv Captain Charles Kin? U S a' 

No. 290. “ROY THE ROYALIST” a P a n Charles Kmg U.a A. 

No. 289. “THE PASSING OF MAJOR KILGORE ” . Bv YounnE Allison 

No. 288. “A FAIR BLOCKADE-BREAKER ” . By T C Deleon 

So « ™ B COMMONER’ By Mrs. Poultney Bigelow: 

No. 235. “CAR LOTT VS INTENDED” ! By Ruth Me Enery Stuart' 

No. 234. “A DAUGHTER'S HEART” By Mrs II Kt Camer, ' 

No. 283. “A ROSE OF A HUNDRED LEAVES” . By Amelia E Barr' 

St a Wi?f^f EASVBE ’ ■* Goo, go Parsons xSihrop! 

No. 280. “HA! HEX’S CllOOsixd" '. ’. ‘ '. ' ‘ ‘ ‘ '. By Mrs FNen'oiney^Kjrk 

No. 279. “THE SOUND OF A VOICE” ! By FrederickS cL^ii' 

No. 278. “A WAVE OF LIFE” * By Clyde FUeh' 

No. 277. “THE LIGHT THAT FAILED ” ' By R.fdyard Kiplin? 

No. 276. “.4A T ARMY PORTIA” By Captain ChSles Rinl' 

No. 275. “A LAGGARD IN LOVE” ' ' 'ily JeanFe Gwvnne BeGanv' 

No. 274. “A MARRIAGE AT SEA” ! . . 7 p? W^KSrk 

No. 273. “THE MARK OF THE BEAST” By Kathar^rPearaon^vS' 

No. 272. “WHAT GOLD CANNOT BUY” ' tnarmePearsonWoods. 

£°- ~l l - ‘THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY” 7 ByOwar Wilde' 

No. 270. “CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE” By Man Si IS' 

No. 269 ■ “A SAPPHO OF GREEN SPRINGS” ' J bV Bret Hart? 

Z:Z ■ Tn^ s soi n f,f,?i“ l ’ XE ’ : •• ' : : ; ; >;oJS!5Sat 

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StsS . : 

No. 261. “SOLARION” w Leo, t 

No. 260. “AN INVENTION OF THE ENEMY” Ce ?’ 

No. 259. “TEN MINI TES TO TWELVE” ' a3\ IV ???°°?' 

No. 258. “A DREAM OF CONOUEST ” r> ?? C. Met lclland. 

No. 257. “A CHAIN OF ERRORS” \ Rv mH^vv 0 T d r 

No. 256. “THE WITNESS OF THE SUN” ‘ * ' « a *, • a t!™ er ' 

No. 255. “ BELLA- DEMONIA” R , lves - 

No. 2.54. “A TRANSACTION IN HEARTS” ' ' ' ' ® 3 L S ® 1 J ina ®°!? ro * 

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No 252 ** F > rrxif a wtPiv v ? 4 v/ju -M* -klliot Sea, well. 

No.' 251.' “ EARTHIMNG^S**™ By Captain Charles King, U.S.A. 

No- 250- “OUEEN OF SPADES,” and Autobiography B 

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No. 247. “THE YELLOW SNAKE” it!, 

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No. 236. “ A LAND OF LOVE” * ' ' By Lewjtmderpoole. 

No. 235. “AT ANCHOR” By Sidney Luska. 

No. 234. “THE WHISTLING BUOY” By Julia Magruder. 

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No. 232. “ DOUGL 4 S DUANE ” By Captain Charles King, U.S.A. 

No. 231. “ KENYON'S WIFE” By Edgar Fawcett. 

No. 230. “A SELF-M4DF MAN” • - By Lucy C. Lillie. 

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No. 227. “ BRUETON’S BAYOU” By Fr ^ nce ' s Hodgson Burnett. 

John Habberton. 

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NEW ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THE 


OVELS OF 

E. MARLITT. 

It is through the delightful translations of MRS. A. L. W 1 STER that 
the novels of this celebrated German author have become so popular in 
America. They have now been profusely illustrated, and include the 
following volumes. 




THE OLD MAM’SELLE’S 

SECRET. 

AT THE COUNCILLOR’S. 

THE SECOND WIFE. 

THE LADY WITH THE RUBIES. 

THE OWL’S NEST. 

COUNTESS GISELA. 

IN THE SCHILLINGSCOURT. 


“It is one of the most vigorous, powerful, 
and fascinating of the series. It enlists the 
deepest interest from the first page, and en- 
chains it to the close. It is strong and graphic 
in its portraitures, intense and dramatic in its 
diversified coloring. Humor and pathos suc- 
ceed each other, while the drama moves rapidly 
on .” — Albany Journal. 

“ Mrs. A. L. Wister is the most industrious, 
as well as the most judicious and successful, of 
translators in the department of light litera- 
ture.” — N. Y. Eve. Post. 

“An exceptionally interesting story, abound- 
ing in action and incident, the plot well con- 
structed and skilfully wrought out ."—Baltimore 
News. 

“ We rarely encounter a novel that we can 
read with so much pleasure and can commend 
so universally .” — Literary IVorld. 

"As sweet and wholesome as its predeces- 
sors .” — Boston Globe. 

“ This volume is marked by the same power, 
dramatic unity, and naturalness which are so 
characteristic of her writings .”— Chicago Even- 
ing Journal. 

“It is one of the best of Miss Marlitt’s ro- 
mances.” — N. Y. Eve. Post , 


THE BAILIFF’S MAID. 

GOLD ELSIE. 

THE LITTLE MOORLAND 

PRINCESS. 


“ A piece of fiction so faithful to life as to 
seem no fiction ; a summer love-idyl, invested 
with the nameless charm and quaintness of 
old-world existence. ” — The American. 


, * ' Gold Klsie' is one of the loveliest heriones 

ever introduced to the public.”— Boston Adver- 
tiser. 


, Goe seldom meets in print a prettier picture 
than that contained in the first halfdozen 
pages of ‘ The Little Moorland Princess,’ but 
it has many companion pieces throughout the 
p,ot tlle stor y is intricate, but 
skUtully developed, and the style of the writer 
‘ s ™tonly bright and vivacious, but thoroughly 
artistic. — Washington Chronicle. 


Price in sets, cloth, 10 volumes, $15.00. 


For sale by all Booksellers. Sent by the Publishers, postpaid, on receipt of price 


J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 

2 



HE LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF 
ENGLAND, BY AGNES STRICK- 
LAND. 


Beautifully printed on good paper. In eight uniform volumes, octavo size. 
Cloth, gilt top, $16.00; half calf, $28.00; three-quarters calf, $32.00. 

Special Edition. Eight volumes in sixteen. Cloth, gilt top, $20.00 ; half 
calf, $40.00; three-quarters calf, $48.00. 

I * 


I These Lives of the Queens, like Plutarch’s Lives of Ancient Grecians 
j and Romans, embody the best elements of both history and biography, and 
are among the most fascinating reading which history affords, because they 
are built upon character rather than upon events. They are wrought out 
of a myriad webs: “the gorgeous descriptions of Hall and Holingshed, 
the characteristic anecdotes of the faithful Cavendish, the circumstantial 
narratives of Stowe and Speed. The Acts of the Privy Council, the 
I Parliamentary Journals, the Regal Records. Collections of historical fami- 
lies and gentlemen of antiquarian 
research and they depict the 
queens in their daily life, “their 
sayings and doings, their manners, 
their costume,” giving as well “their 
most interesting letters” and royal 
documents and signatures. 

The external appearance of the 
set is very handsome, in dull green- 
and-gold covers, while the internal 
features are all that delicate paper and new type can achieve. 

The New York Times says : “ The present reprint was loudly called for. 
The old American plates had passed their period of efficiency; they were 
worn out. The type now employed, as we remember the old font, is rather 
better than the old one, and the illustrations, which are numerous, including 
views as well as portraits, though done by process, are far better than the 
old ones, which had passed their time of usefulness. Some of these illus- 
trations, if not all, have never before appeared in any edition.” 


, For sale by all Booksellers . Sent, post-paid , on receipt of 
I price , by the Publishers. 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 




LITTELL’S LIVING AGE 

In 1893 will enter its YEA.lt OF JUBILEE, 

hence a retrospective glance at its history may be now appropriately taken. 

In establishing this magazine its founder sought to present in convenient 
form a history of the world’s progress, by selecting from the whole wide field 
of European Periodical Literature, the best articles by the most eminent 
writers in every department, Biography, History, Literature, Travels, Science, 
Politics, Art, Criticism, in a word, “ de omnibus rebus” including Fiction 
and Poetry. 

The plan thus originally proposed has been faithfully followed during the 
forty-nine years of its existence, with what measure of success the uniformly 
high character of the articles presented to its readers for 2530 Consecutive 
Weeks and the contents of its ig5 Octavo Volumes sufficiently attest. 

A.D. 1844 . “ I have never seen any similar publication of equal merit.” — George Ticknor, A ugust, 1844. 
A.D. 1869 . “ Still as fresh, as racy, as enchanting, and full to the brim of scientific value, as when it rejoiced 

in its first year.” — Alfred B. Street, in Albany Evening Journal, Nov., i8bq. 

A.D. 1893 . “ Only the best has ever filled its pages; the best thought, rendered in the purest English. Nothing 

poor or unworthy has ever appeared in the columns of The Living Age.” — The Presbyterian, Philadelphia, 
13th April, i8q2. 



In the coming year The Living Age will continue to be 

THE REFLEX OF THE AGE IN WHICH IT LIVES. 

Fiction will still occupy its accustomed place in the magazine and the exquisite short stories 
which appear in every number and which have been so well received during the past year will 
remain a prominent feature of this department. 

OBSE RVE ! The Living Age is a Weekly Magazine of sixty-four pages, giving more than , 
Three and a Quarter Thousand double column octavo pages of reading matter 
yearly, forming four large volumes, thus presenting a mass of matter Unequalled in 
Quality and Quantity by any other publication in the country. 

The Boston Transcript of Sept. 3, i8q 2, says of The Living Age: “ No well-ordered 
and intelligent household should be without this publication.” 

That every such household may be induced to subscribe for the magazine, extend its 
sphere of usefulness and double its circulation, the publishers make the following 


OFFERS EQUAL TO THE BEST EVER PRESENTED 

for the consideration of an intelligent and cultured class of American readers. 
These splendid offers are open to all subscribers, old and new alike. 


#ffcr jpo. JU 
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<# T a 1 Littell’s Living Age, one year, postpaid . 
iP L y .OO , Ridpath’s History of the U.S. of America 

T - r ( Littell’s Living Age, one year, postpaid . 

IP I 5 -J U ( The Wonderful Story of Old 

f Littell’s Living Age, one year, postpaid . 
% 20 . 1 Ridpath’s History of the U.S. of America 

J ( The Wonderful Story of Old 


$8.50 

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No one should delay in taking advantage of the remarkable opportunities thus presented of obtaining this 
large amount of the most valuable reading matter at a nominal price. Send for descriptive circulars. 

. r ( w iH send Ridpath’s History free to anyone sending us two new subscribers to 

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( Wonderful Story of Old,” for a list of three new subscribers and $24.00. 


“RIDPATH’S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES,” 

by John Clark Ridpath, LL.D., author of the “History of the World,” etc., has received the emphatic 
endorsement of leading educators and of the press of America. Rev. Chas. W. Bennett, D.D., Professor of 
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A SPECIAL EDITION of this great work is being prepared for our use. Send for descriptive circulars. 

“The wonderful Story of Old.” 

by Marcius Willson, author of “ Willson’s Historical Series,” “ Philosophy of History,” etc., etc., is a description 
of the Scenes, Incidents, and Events recorded in the Holy Bible, to which is added much valuable matter; the whole 
enriched with poetical gems, and the best thoughts of Biblical scholars and critics. 

This splendid work, richly illustrated after the great masters, is published in two volumes, beautifully printed, on 
the best book paper, and handsomely bound in heavy cloth. Vol. I., 660 pages. Vol. II., 626 pages. 

The prices given in the above “ Offers ” include postage on The Living Age only. The books must be 
sent at the subscriber's expense. 


The Living Age is published weekly at $ 8.00 a year, free of postage. 

TO NEW SUBSCRIBERS for the year 1893, will be sent gratis the two October 
issues containing a powerful story by Frank Harris, editor of The Fortnightly Review, 
entitled Profit and Loss. 


The publishers continue their popular clubbing arrangements whereby one or more 
other periodicals may be obtained at greatly reduced prices. 

2^= Clubbing rates and circulars more fully describing the above named works will be 
sent on application. Sample copies of The Living Age 15 cents each. 

Address LITTELL & CO., 31 Bedford St., Boston. 

4 


High-Class Etchings, Engravings, 
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Signed artists’ proof-etchings from $5.00. Fine water- 
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Correspondents residing at a distance can have a selection 
of unframed pictures sent on approval. 

Descriptive catalogue, No. 9, of 500 etchings, with 50 
illustrations, mailed on receipt of ten cents in stamps. 

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HANDY-BOOK OF 
LITERARY CURIOSITIES. 


By 


William S. Walsh, 
and the Legend,” “ 


author of “ Faust : The Poem 
Paradoxes of a Philistine,” etc. 
Crown 8vo. Uniform with volumes of Reader’s 
Reference Library. Half morocco, $3.50; three- 
quarters calf, $5.00. 

COLLECTION of the bric-a-brac of literature, literary 
forgeries, hoaxes, jests, enigmas, conundrums, para- 
doxes, etc., exploited; proverbs, sayings, slang 
phrases, and familiar lines correlated and traced to 
their source ; plagiarisms, analogies, and coincidences 
detected ; the whole forming a complete encyclopae- 
dia of all that is most amusing and entertaining in the ana of the 
past and present, and an indispensable reference-book of curious, 
quaint, and out-of-the-way information that has never before been 
collected in book form. 


°*v 

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“ There is scarcely a page in this fasci- 
nating volume which will not open the 
eyes of the average reader. The serious 
student of the language will find it hintful 
and helpful in many ways. It is of all 
books of its kind the most compact, com- 
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Philadelphia Press. 

“ There is a strange fascination in any 
really good dictionary, and this ‘ Handy- 
Book’ is not easily laid down. Its primary 
aim is to entertain, in which its success is 
perfect ; but it succeeds in instructing as 
well. It would be utterly idle to com- 
plain of its length or shortness, that this 
word or phrase might have been well left 
out and that other inserted. Nothing 
should have been left out, and if Mr. 
Walsh publishes a dozen more volumes of 
the same kind so much the better.” — N. Y. 
Churchman . 

“An invaluable companion to journal- 
ists and all literary writers, and in fact to 
every literary reader. As a book to take up 
with which to pass fifteen minutes, half an 
hour, or more time, of rare and fascinating 
entertainment, we hardly know its <qual. 
A page cannot be turned without coming 
across something that will both instruct 
and entertain, or furnish material with 
which to point an illustration that shall 
make a hit in conversation, enrich a 
speech, or make brighter and more telling a 
literary article .” — Boston Home Journal. 


TESTIMONIALS. 

“ The book is one which will be 

rpi 

library .” — Chicago 


fully 

entertaining to literary people and excel- 


lent for the reference 
Inter- Ocean. 


“ We have never seen a work in which 
are so well united all the best qualities of 
a literary common-place book; never one 
which a writer will find more useful or a 
reader more agreeable. The arrangement 
of the contents is perfect, for the subjects 
are all alphabetically placed and there is 
a very complete index .” — Philadelphia 
Evening Bulletin. 

“ It is a volume which few who work 
with the pen can afford to be without.” — 
Chicago Times. 

“We have here plenty of instruction, 
for Mr. Walsh has explored all the odd 
nooks and corners of literature, and it is 
mingled with an abundance of amusing 
anecdotes and queer sayings. It is a book 
for the general public, not as profound as 
Disraeli’s * Curiosities of Literature,’ but 
a vast deal more popular. It will grace 
the shelves of the scholar as a book of 
reference, and the library of the business 
man to entice him from his cares and 
anxieties and afford him a very gracious 
opportunity to pass many leisure hours 
pleasantly and profitably, for Mr. Walsh’s 
essays range * from grave to gay, from 
lively to severe.’ ” — N. Y. Herald. 


For sale by all Booksellers, or 

will be sent by the Publishers, post-paid, on receipt of the price. 

J. W. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY , 

7T5-717 Market Street, F*lnilaclelplaia.. 




•yA'A-.-. 












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PUBLICATIONS 

283 


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martinet's 
Smrnran 
• jftne Qvt 
Publications. 


la 


A TTENTION is called to the following, among 
many new subjects, just issued : 

Christmas Eve in Colonial Times. 

Etched by J. S. King from the picture by J. L. G. Ferris, ex- 
hibited at National Academy, 1892. 

A Stranger in Paradise. 

Etched by F. M. Spiegle from the picture by A. Herter, ex- 
hibited at the Water Color Society's Exhibition, 1891. 

Sunday Afternoon in New England. 

After the painting by Jennie Brownscombe. 

Lead, Kindly Light ! 

An exquisite illustration of Cardinal Newman's Hymn. En- 
graved in mezzotint by G. Dale after A. E. Emslie, R.W.S. 

Nearer, My God , to Thee (Companion to Lead, Kindly Light). 
Engraved in mezzotint by W. Henderson after A. Piot. 

Burning of the “Congress.” 

After I. O. Davidson. 

The Engagement Ring. 

After Francis Day. 

And many others in all branches of art, — LANDSCAPE, FIGURE, 
MARINE, SPORTING, Etc., Etc. 

A large selection of WATER COLORS by the 
most distinguished artists, native and foreign ; and a 
choice collection of MODERN OIL PAINT- 
INGS, an inspection of which is cordially invited. 


KLACKNER'S PORTFOLIOS AND STANDS . 

Stands made of Ash, Oak, Cherry, Mahogany, or any other wood. 
Special designs made to order. Portfolios in Linen and 
half bound in Morocco, in all sizes. 

C. KLACKNER, 5 East 17th Street, New York, 

Or Art Dealers in all the Principal Cities throughout the States. 

Inquire for Klackner’s Publications, 


UNMOUNTED PHOTOGRAPHS 

OF 

Ancient Modern 
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EMBRACING 

Famous Paintings, 
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Architecture, etc. 

Price, Cabinet Size, $1.50 per dozen; larger sizes 
in proportion. Send 15 cents for catalogue of 
12,000 subjects. 

J. E. McCLEES & CO., Ltd., 

SOLE AGENTS FOR SOULE PHOTOGRAPH CO., 

1417 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia. 

Please mention Lippincott’s. 



ALUMINUM SOUVENIR 

Charm (dime size) with the Lord’s Prayer coined in 
smallest characters, and strung on blue silk ribbon, 
seul free to any one rnrr sending 10 cents lor 
sample copy ofTlie PKtE St. Louis Magazine. 
Aluminum Is the wonderful new metal, bright as sil- 
ver. lieht as wood, strong as steel, will not tarnish. 
St. Louis Magazine, 901 Olive St, St Louis, Mo. 



Christmas Selections and a Responsive Service. Best 

composers of Sunday School music represented. x6 pp. Price* 
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TL, U_.„ Da MM Vinrv a New Christmas Service of Song 
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A Christmas Reverie, LSMSSSS^.i 

Mason, Price 10 Cents, Postpaid. 

The Wonderful Story, foSiii&U 

Juvenile Cantatas: 

“A Jolly Christmas,” by C. H. Gabriel, (Just Issued) “One 
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MUSICAL VISITOR for December will contain appro- 
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Catalogue of all kinds of Christmas music furnished on ap- 
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PUBLISHED BY 

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Root A Sons Music Co. 

aoo Wabash Ave., Chicago. 


The John Church Co.* 

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PLAYS 


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makers, for Bchool, 
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Maryland, 1214 Eutaw Place, Baltimore. 

Miss Randolph’s School. 

Boarding and Day School for Girls. 

Located in the most beautiful part of the city. 
Opens September 21, with a very able corps of 
teachers. Students prepared for college. 

Mrs. A. L. Armstrong, Principal. 


7 




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If there is too much fat in a soap, it is slow, disagree- 
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If there is too much alkali in it, it cuts the skin a little, 
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Pears’ is perhaps the only soap in the world with no free| 
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Pears’ Soap — does what you want done, and stops right 
there. It washes and does no harm. 

You can have such a skin as you never dreamed of by 
using Pears’ Soap, because there is no alkali in it — nothing 
but soap. 


January, 1893. 



J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY’S 
LIST OF NEW PUBLICATIONS, 
WITH BRIEF NOTICES OF 
THEIR CONTENTS, TOGETHER 
WITH AN ANNOUNCEMENT OF 
WORKS NOW IN PRESS 

III 

FOR SALE BY BOOKSELLERS GENERALLY, OR WILL BE SENT 

BY MAIL, POST-PAID, UPON RECEIPT OF PRICE ----- 

ms 



Diary of George Mifflin Dallas 

While United States Minister to the Courts of St. Petersburg (1837-1839) 
and St. James (1857-1861). Edited by Susan M. Dallas. Hon. M. Russell 
Thayer says : ‘ ‘ The diaries are full of interesting facts, while the occasional 
gossip of courtly circles adds much that is interesting as well as amusing 
to the reader. These records of the daily experiences and observations at 
foreign courts of one so quick of apprehension, so versatile, and so com- 
petent to impart to them an attractive form in their relation, are records 
which we could ill afford to lose.” i2mo. 374 pages. $2.00. 

Handy-Book of Literary Curiosities. 

By William S. Walsh. The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin says : ‘‘We have 
never seen a work in which are so well united all the best qualities of a 
literary commonplace book, never one which a writer will find more useful 
or a reader more agreeable. The arrangement of the contents is perfect, for 
the subjects are all alphabetically placed and there is a complete index.” 
Crown 8vo. Half morocco, $3.50; three-quarters calf, $5.00. 

Mother and Child. 

By Edward P. Davis and John M. Keating. The Philadelphia Ledger says : 
‘ * This is an important and highly valuable book. Realizing that manuals 
of instruction for popular use in the home will be consulted, and should, 
therefore, be sound and clean, the joint authors of this publication have 
made it as thorough and simple as possible. Dr. Davis, therefore, very prop- 
erly opens the treatise with a thorough discussion of the duties of the girl, 
the future mother. The first part, indeed, of ‘ Mother and Child’ is devoted 
to girlhood and its sound health. The hygiene of womanhood and of 
maternity follows, instructively discussed and sensibly set forth. The com- 
mon sense in the book is as suitable as its scientific information. Dr. Keat- 

9 



IO /. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY'S MONTHLY BULLETIN. 

mg, who writes the second part of the volume, discusses childhood, rounding 
out its direction until education and school hygiene are reached, which com- 
pletes the circle of subjects discussed and brings the reader round to the 
theme of the opening chapter. Fresh-air ventilation, out-door exercise, and 
diet are completely discussed. . . . The book appeals to the interest of every 
one, — man, woman, and child.” Price, cloth binding, $2.50. 

Nineteenth Century Sense. 

New Edition. By Dr. J. E. Garretson (John Darby). The volume has 
been rewritten, enlarged, and rearranged. No book published for years has 
more baffled the critics ; receiving on the one hand more praise or on the 
other greater disparagement. The text of it lies with the following lines : 

‘ * A man that looks on glass, 

On it may stay his eye ; 

Or, if he pleaseth, through it pass, 

And the heavens espy.” 

The author treats of the meaning, purpose, and capability of human life and 
the oneness of the natural and supernatural. i6mo. Cloth binding, $1.00. 
Complete sets of Dr. Garretson’s Works. ‘‘Nineteenth Century Sense,” , 
“Man and His World,” “Brushland,” “Thinkers and Thinking,” “Hours 
with John Darby,” “Odd Hours of a Physician.” Six volumes, beautifully 
bound, gilt top, in box, $7.50. 

My Flirtations. 

By Margaret Wynman. The London Athenceum proclaims it “ A bright 
and amusing satire on various types of modem young men, and of their 
vagaries under the influence of a young lady not indisposed to flirt. There 
is the society man, the aesthetic young man, the gay and guileless subaltern, 
the mean lover and the rustic lover, and, of course, the inevitable American. 
It is all strictly up to date. The heroine is a delightfully commonplace 
young lady, who accepts the admiration of her incongruous band of lovers 
with the utmost sangfroid , and in the end satisfies poetic justice by marrying 
a middle-aged stockbroker. The occasional glimpses of the cynical sister 
Christina make one wish there were more of her. The illustrations are by 
Mr. Bernard Partridge, and show no falling off from his wonted ability.” 
i2mo. Satin, $1.25. 

Barbara Dering. 

A Sequel to “The Quick or the Dead?” By Amelie Rives. The 
Buffalo Enquirer says: “Few works of fiction have been more eagerly 
awaited and fewer yet have more completely realized the highest hopes of 
expectant readers. In ‘ Barbara Dering’ Mrs. Chanler shows a wonderful 
advance in all of those details which make a power in literature and ‘ a 
star to men forever.’ All of her preceding efforts are surpassed, and it is 
safe to say that in ‘ Barbara Dering’ she has reached a height attained by 


/. B. LIPP 1 NC 0 TT COMPANY'S MONTHLY BULLETIN. 


n 


few. Kate Field' s Washington remarks : “In her discussion of the prob- 
lems of married life the author has spoken with much greater freedom than 
any other contemporary novelist, and has given the feminine point of view 
with fine delicacy and entire faithfulness. In order to be truthful she has 
not found it necessary to twist facts, ignore natural laws, or fly in the face 
of social prejudices. ‘ Barbara Dering’ is a more thoughtful and a more 
important book than the much-talked-of novel to which it is the sequel.” 
The London Athen<zum states: “Whether one may entirely sympathize or 
no with Miss Rives’s choice of material, her novels are, as a rule, novels 
of clever impressions of character and intense phases of feeling, backed by 
evidence of a real temperament. Her style has gained in mellowness and 
maturity of touch without losing the sharp intensity that distinguished it, 
and the heroine’s character has certainly grown in softness and womanliness.” 
i2tno. Cloth, $1.25. 

Novels of E. Marlitt. 

It is through the delightful translations of Mrs. A. L. Wister that the novels 
of this celebrated German author have become so popular in America. 
They have now been profusely illustrated with characteristic full-page 
drawings from the original German editions, and include the following 
volumes: “ Old Main’selle’s Secret,” “ At the Councillor’s,” “The Second 
Wife,” “The Lady with the Rubies,” “The Owl’s Nest,” “Countess 
Gisela,” “In the Schillingscourt, ” “The Bailiff’s Maid,” “Gold Elsie,” 
“The Little Moorland Princess.” Price in sets, 10 volumes, $15.00. 

A Family Likeness 

Is the title of a new story by Mrs. B. M. Croker, author of ‘ ‘ Two Masters, ’ ’ 
etc., and is published in the December number of Lippincott’s Series of 
Select Novels. The tale is laid partly in England and partly in India. 
An old portrait in a brand-new London house sets Gerald Romilly’s heart 
to beating and wins him from the girl chosen for him by his mother. Not 
until some years have gone by and Gerald is far away in India does he meet 
with his mate, who bears a family likeness to the fair old portrait. Such 
is the most meagre outline of a plot of many complications, but which is as 
clever in its entanglement as is the prose which narrates it in breezy grace. 
i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 

Broken Chords. 

By Mrs. George McClellan (Harford Fleming). “This is a novel of 
character, as distinguished from the school of fiction which primarily 
deals with society and the delineations of manners. In ‘ Broken Chords’ 
we have the elements of a complete melodrama, held in solution, and only 
precipitated to emphasize their effect upon the contrasted natures of ‘ Cyn- 
thia Arkwright’ and ‘ Posey Periwinkle.’ This careful character study 
also includes pictures of village life in Maryland. The plot is well handled 
and consistently developed.” — Public Ledger. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 


12 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY'S MONTHLY BULLETIN. 


I Married a Soldier; 

or, Old Days in the Old Army. By Lydia Spencer Lane. From the 
Boston Advertiser : “It is the narration of actual experiences as the wife 
of a U. S. army officer in active service on the frontier. Her wedding trip 
was to join her husband’s command in the far West. Soon after he was 
ordered to Texas. The story of her life, hardships, and adventures for 
several years in Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado, among Mexicans, 
Indians, natives, desperadoes, military officers and soldiers, and all the 
nondescript people whom one would be likely to meet in those regions, is 
extremely fascinating. Whether crossing the Rio Grande, wandering over 
the desert of Mojave, parched with thirst and blinded by sand, riding a 
burro in Santa Fe, or climbing the mountains of Colorado, amid circum- 
stances and surroundings that would have appalled many, Mrs. Lane 
appears to have maintained a flow of spirits certainly remarkable. She 
tells her story in a jolly manner, which appeals to her readers. There is 
not a dry page in the whole narrative.” i2mo. Cloth binding, $1.00. 

A Soldier’s Secret 

A Story of the Sioux War of 1890, and An Army Portia. Two 
Novels in one volume. By Captain Charles King, U.S.A. “ No military 
novels of the day rival those of Captain King in precision and popularity,” 
says the Boston Courier. “As descriptions of life at an army post and the 
vicissitudes, trials, and heroisms of army life on the plains,” remarks the 
Washington Army and Navy Register , “the novels of Captain King are 
worthy of a high and permanent place in American literature. They will 
hereafter take rank with Cooper’s Novels as distinctive American works of 
fiction.” i2mo. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 

Amor in Society 

Is a Study from Life by Julia Duhring, the author of “Philosophers and 
Fools’ ’ and ‘ ‘ Gentlefolks and Others.” The London Pall Mall Gazette says : 
“ It has all the grace and charm of the best books of ‘light literature,’ and 
is as trenchant as eloquent, as logical as the ideal critic.” i2mo. Cloth, 
$1.5°. 

One Hundred Riddles 

of the Fairy Bellaria. By Charles Godfrey Leland. Profusely illus- 
trated. Square i2mo. Cloth, 75 cents. 

Tubo-Peritoneal Ectopic Gestation. 

By J. Clarence Webster, B.A., M.D., etc. This monograph gives a detailed 
account of an original research into the nature of a mixed variety of ectopic 
gestation, partly within the left Fallopian tube and partly within the peri- 
toneal cavity. Such a variety has never yet been described. The work 
contains eleven colored plates. 4to. Cloth, 52 pages, $6.00. 


J. B. L 1 PPINC 0 TT COMPANY'S MONTHLY BULLETIN. 13 

Female Pelvic Anatomy. 

By J. Clarence Webster, B.A., M.D., etc. The author’s chief aim in this 
very elaborate work has been to observe accurately, and to describe with 
faithfulness, the great mass of facts which have come under his observation. 
He gives in detail the anatomical condition found in the pelves of women 
who died of diseases causing no alteration in pelvic relationships. The 
j details were obtained both from sectional and dissectional study. The 
} majority of the plates which illustrate the work were drawn from nature 
} by the author. 4to. Cloth, 129 pages, $9.00. 

Applied Mechanics. 

| Written expressly for first-year students, by Andrew Jamieson, M. Inst. 

C. E., with numerous illustrated experiments and examination papers. The 
| book has been divided into four stages : (1) Forces in Equilibrium and the 
i Principle of Moments and of Work as applied to Simple Mechanics, such 

as levers, pulleys, cranes, etc. (2) Hydraulics and Hydraulic Machines. 
(3) Eaws of Motion. (4) Properties and Strength of Materials. These sec- 
j tions have been treated systematically and practically. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 

Bygone England. 

Social Studies in Its Historic Byways and Highways. An attractive volume 
by William Andrews, F.R.H.S., which illustrates many phases of the social 
life of England in the olden time. The book represents the study of many 
years, made in out-of-the-way places and amongst books and manuscripts 
which do not usually come under the notice of the general reader. Crown 
8vo. Cloth, $2.25. 

How to Manage Building Associations 

Is a complete guide for directors, secretaries, and other officers. By Edmund 
Wrigley. It contains forms for keeping all the books and accounts, together 
with the rules, examples, and explanations illustrating the various plans 
of working in the different organizations. It is a i2mo volume bound in 
cloth, $2.00. 

“The Working-Man’s Way to Wealth,” 

A treatise on Building Associations, what they are and how to use them, 
by Edmund Wrigley, explains the practical working and benefit of these 
. associations as a mode of saving to the industrial classes. Price, cloth 
binding, 50 cents. 

Book by Book: 

Popular Studies on the Canon of Scripture. By the Right Rev. the Lord 
Bishop of Ripon, Ven. Archdeacon Farrar, D.D., Very Rev. H. D. M. 
Spence, D.D., late Professor W. G. Elmslie, D.D., Prof. A. B. Davidson, 

D. D., EE-D., Prof. Marcus Dods, D.D., Prof. Stanley Leathes, D.D., Rev. 


14 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY'S MONTHLY BULLETIN. 

Canon Maclear, D.D., Rev. George Salmon, D.D., L,L,.D., Prof. James 
Robertson, D.D., Prof. William Sanday, D.D., Prof. William Milligan, D.D., 
Right Rev. the Bishop of Worcester. These studies originally appeared as 
Introductions to the various books of Holy Scripture in “The New Illus- 
trated Bible.” The names of the authors furnish at once a clear indication 
and an ample guarantee of the character and quality of the essays, and the 
circumstance that it is now possible to issue in a single volume a complete 
and scholarly survey of the questions affecting the Sacred Canon which have 
of recent years caused so much anxiety, will be considered a sufficient justi- 
fication for reproducing them in the present popular form. i2mo. Cloth, 

The Great War of 189- 

A Forecast. By Rear-Admiral Colomb, Colonel Maurice, R.A. ; Major 
Henderson, Staff College ; Captain Maude, Archibald Forbes, Charles To we, 
D. Christie Murray, F. Scudamore, and Sir Charles Dilke. In this narra- 
tive, an attempt is made to forecast the course of events preliminary and 
incidental to the Great War which, in the opinion of military and political 
experts, will probably occur in the immediate future. The writers, who are 
well-known authorities on international politics and strategy, have striven 
to derive the conflict from its most likely source, to conceive the most 
probable campaigns and acts of policy, and generally to give to their work 
the verisimilitude and actuality of real warfare. The work has been pro- 
fusely illustrated from sketches by Mr. Frederic Villiers, the well-known 
war artist. The volume is a large 8vo of about three hundred and twenty 
pages, containing forty-five illustrations, twenty of which are full-page and 
three or four double-page. 

NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS. 

An Affair of Honour, 

By Alice Weber, “is a pleasing English juvenile, with a delightful little 
maid for a heroine, who does a brave deed and brings on a severe fit of 
sickness thereby. She recovers, and the tale ends happily. The story is 
brightly told and the characters are vigorously individualized .” — Boston 
Gazette. Small 4to. Cloth, $1.25. 

Maid Marian and Robin Hood. 

“What man, woman, or child is there in English-speaking lands who has 
not heard or read the story of Robin Hood. Whether there ever was such 
a hero in fact can never be authentically told, but we know well that in the 
days when England was called ‘ merrie’ there was a Sherwood forest, and 
there were skilful archers, and there were deer, and there were outlaws 
willing to risk their lives for the sake of venison. In ‘ Maid Marian and 
Robin Hood’ J. E. Muddock has retold the famous legend of old Sherwood 
forest and the merry men that there assembled under the leadership of the 


J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY'S MONTHLY BULLETIN. 15 

gallant Robin. We have here once more, in most acceptable style, the ad- 
ventures of Friar Tuck, Little John, and Stutely. The illustrations are 
good, and the old legend is most worthily reproduced.” — Chicago Herald. 
i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 

Boys Own Out-Door Book, 

Edited by G. A. Hutchinson, ‘‘is rich with information, and just such infor- 
mation as a boy’s soul yearns for,” says the New York Herald. ‘‘There is 
something about cricket by Dr. Grace, who is a well-known expert ; some- 
thing about athletics and athletic training, by a member of the London 
Athletic Club ; a good deal about boating and yachting and swimming and 
canoeing and cycling and ice yachts and skating. The illustrations are 
really admirable, and if any of our boy readers get this encyclopaedia of 
out-door sports, we venture to predict that he will thank the Herald for 
recommending it.” 4to. Cloth, $1.75. 

Axel Ebersen, 

The Graduate of Upsaea, by A. Laurie, ‘‘illustrates the practical ad- 
vantages of adapting an educational system to the tastes and genius of the 
student. Axel is the son of rich Swedish parents. He does not make 
much progresss under his tutor, who is excellent in mathematics, but un- 
trained in handicraft and out-of-door sports. Axel is fortunately thrown 
into associations with Esaias Bistrom, a teacher who follows the manual - 
training plan. It is this teacher who tells Axel’s story, — how misfortune 
overtakes Axel’s parents, and Axel, owing to the happy accident which 
placed him under Esaias’ s instruction, is enabled to make his own career in 
the world. In the story of Axel’s youth and early manhood is shown the 
advantage of manual training. The story appeals to both boys and parents.” 
— Philadelphia Inquirer. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

Bimbi. 

By Ouida. ‘‘The collection of stories, to which E. H. Garrett has added 
about a dozen charming sketches, is a most delightful volume, and one that 
it will be well for children to read no less on account of the noble and useful 
lessons it contains, than for the pleasure it will give them. That they will 
be pleased no person who has ever read ‘ The Nurnberg Stove,’ which is the 
first of these tales, will need to be told. The book has in it nine stories, 
and it is one of the most pleasing of holiday volumes, as well as a beautifu* 
one.” — BosIoji Courier. Small 4to. Cloth, $1.50. 

Uncle Bill’s Children, 

By Helen Milman, ‘‘are two dear little folks, Mamie and Jack, who go to 
the seashore for an outing with a 3^oung bachelor uncle. Uncle Bill’s trials 
are many and laughable, as the children are full of fun and harmless pranks. 
The book is handsomely bound in pale green cloth and has numerous illus- 
trations, all of which will endear it to the little ones.” — Washington Public 
Opinion. Small 4to. Cloth, $1.00. 


l6 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY'S MONTHLY BULLETIN. 

BOOKS IN PRESS. 


Chambers’s Encyclopaedia. 

Vol. X. Completing the Work. Entirely new edition. A Dictionary 
of Art, Science, History, Literature, Fable, Mythology, Biography, Geog- 
raphy, etc. Published under the auspices of W. & R. Chambers, Edin- 
burgh, and J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia. Price, per vol. : 
Cloth, $3.00 ; cloth, uncut, $3.00 ; sheep, $4.00 ; half morocco, $4.00. 

Found Wanting. 

By Mrs. Alexander, author of “For His Sake,” “The Wooing O’t,” etc. 
Issued in Lippincott’s Series of Select Novels. 

A New Story 

By Mrs. Robert Jocelyn, author of “A Big Stake,” issued in Lippincott’s 
Series of Select Novels. 

Cloister Life in the Days of Coeur de Lion. 

By the Very Rev. H. D. M. Spence, D.D., Dean of Gloucester. With 
illustrations by Herbert Railton. Imperial 8vo. 

A Leafless Spring. 

A new. novel by Ossip Schubin, author of “ Erlach Court,” “ O Thou, My 
Austria !” etc. Translated from the German by Mary J. Salford. 

Painters’ Colors, Oils, and Varnishes: 

A Practical Manual. By George H. Hurst, F.C.S., of the Manchester 
Technical School. In crown 8vo, extra, with illustrations. 

Hermetic Philosophy. 

Can Virtue and Science be taught? A comedy founded on Plato’s 
“ Meno,” applied to modern discoveries in Theosophy, Christian Science, 
Magic, etc., and to those who are making these discoveries. By Styx. 
Vol. III. 

The History and Theory of Money. 

By Sidney Sherwood, Ph.D., Wharton School of Finance and Economy, 
University of Pennsylvania. 8vo. 

Clinical Diagnosis: 

The Chemical, Microscopical, and Bacteriological Evidence of 
Disease. By Prof, von Jaksch, of Prague. Translated from the Third 
German Edition by Jas. Cagney, M.A., M.D., of St. Mary’s Hospital. 
With additional illustrations, many in colors. Second Edition. 



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Worcester’s New Academic Dictionary 

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CUPPLEMENT TO ALLI- 
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FROM THE NEW YORK NA TION. — “The work ought to be not only in every library, 
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FROM THE BOSTON LITERARY WORLD “ It can hardly be doubted that Allibone’s 
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FROM THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE . — “No dictionary of the authors of any language 
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COSMOPOLITAN MAGAZINE, 

One year, - - - 3.00 

$6.00 

J 


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A Christmas Present. 

What more delightful remembrance for the Christmas time 
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If you have a friend whom you would like to have thus remem- 
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to the 

COSMOPOLITAN PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

Broadway and Fifth Ave., New York City. 

21 



Half-Hour Series. 


SELECTED AND ARRANGED BY 

CHKRLES .MORRIS. 

UNIFORM IN STYLE, SIZE, AND BINDING. 


HALF-HOURS WITH THE BEST 
AMERICAN AUTHORS. 

Complete in four crown 8vo volumes. 

Cloth, $6.00 ; half calf, $10.00 ; 
three-quarters calf, $13.00. 

Mr. Moms has collected a greater amount of 
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from every American author of note in history, 
poetry, art, fiction, and philosophy are grouped 
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HALF-HOURS WITH THE BEST HUMOROUS AUTHORS. 

Four volumes. Crown 8vo. Cloth, gilt top, $6.00 ; half calf, $10.00 ; three- 

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The selections in these volumes embrace some of the choicest writings of the best American, 
Knglish, and foreign humorists. They are made with excellent judgment and taste. Many are 
famous, others are comparatively unknown, but all are meritorious. 

HALF-HOURS WITH AMERICAN HISTORY. 

Two volumes. Crown 8vo. Cloth, $3.00; half calf, $5.00; three-quarters 

calf, $6.50. 

Equally valuable to those who wish to refresh their recollections of American history as a 
whole, and to those who desire to read up on particular subjects. It is as useful in its treatment 
of the events of the last thirty or forty years as in its description of the various legends and tradi- 
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HALF-HOURS WI TH THE BEST FOREIGN AUTHORS. 

Four volumes. Crown 8vo. Cloth, gilt top, $6.00 ; half calf, $10.00 ; three- 

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*** h° r sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent, post-paid, on receipt of the price. 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, Publishers, 

715 and 7x7 Market Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 

22 




dxixLcjZ i~ rrrr'rjj' di±d li d X ? 2 PVM H H ^ ^ , 3 ^71 rJ ,J ,J ,J VJ r* 7T 

FINHNCIKL 

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The American Fire 

Offices : 

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308 and 310 Walnut Street, 
Philadelphia. 


Cash Capital - $500,000.00 

Reserve for Re-Insurance and all other claims 2,286,388.25 

Surplus over all Liabilities 307,152.28 


Total Assets, January 1, 1892, $3,093,540.53. 


THOS. H. MONTGOMERY, President. 

CHAS. P. PEROT, Vice-President. 


RICHARD MARIS, Secretary and Treasurer. 

JAMES B. YOUNG, Actuary 0 


Thomas H. Montgomery, 
Israel Morris, 

Pemberton S. Hutchinson, 


Alexander Biddle, 
Charles P. Perot, 
Joseph E. Gillingham. 


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TRUST AND SAFE DEPOSIT COMPANY 



THE PENNSYLVANIA COMPANY 

FOR INSURANCES ON LIVES AND 
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Lindley Smyth, 

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“Some Winter Resorts, and How to Reach 

them.” Ten cents in stamps. The Travellers’ 
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Gold Howl, - 1.75 

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24 


EVERARD . 

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t might have been;’ 

It yet may be. 

There is time enough only keep 
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i; that is the secret of final suc- 
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ave you a new, quick-winding 
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1 1 is the ideal low-priced watch ; 
ith all the genuineness, beauty 
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les. Every woman might and 
ght to have it. So should every 
an and boy. It is a treasure in 
;elf and often saves a costlier one. 


sry jeweler sells it in all styles. 
$4 to $15. 



Chocolat Menier 1: 
the beverage of bever- 
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wishes to keep the brain 
fresh and vigorous. Pure 
chocolate unites in a per- 
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for a healthy and 
strengthening liquid 
food, and contrary to 
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founded on the use of 
impure matter sold as 
chocolate, it is the Rem- 
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Dyspepsia. A cup of 
the Chocolat Menier 
immediately after eating 
will produce digestion in 
three hours. It is re- 
commended to every 
brain worker in place 
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COCOA AND CHOCOLATE CAN NO MORE BE COM- 
PARED TO EACH OTHER THAN 


Skimmed Milk to pure Cream. 

Chocolat Menier offers what the most particu- 
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some, agreeable food of a decided renovating power. 

Grocers are invited 
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supplied w -i h samples. 

Address 'fnier. 

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ASK YOUR GROCER FOR 

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Annual Sal et Excted an million lb* 
SAMPLES SCNTFREE. MENIER, N 


| yjjim 

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AH Kii?ds of Seed? 

But only the best of each kind have made Ferry’s seed business 
the largsst in the world* Prosperous planters everywhere are using 

FERRY'S 5EEDS. 

Ferry’s Seed Annual for 1893 is a veritable magazine. It con- 
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Get it before you commence to plant. We send It for the asking. 

D. M. FERRY & CO., Detroit, Mich. 



pi IT TI1IQ n 1 IT *“><1 -end with your Dame and express 
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** CENT 



!!«TJEN1 


Manufacturer of 

CROWN” 


Pianos and Organs. 


YOUR curiosity Is excited, a cent is spent (for postal). your 
address is sent, you get catalogue, y«*u learn how best 
verses win prizes (value 81450), your cent is only lent, you 
never repent, if you need now, or ever, a Piano or Organ. 
GEO. P. BEX T.f Clerk No. 18). Chicago. UUEstab. 1870) 


LfllCH FIVE OR EUCHRE PARTIES 

il should send at once to John Sebastian, G.T.A. 
C., R.I. & P.R.R., Chicago. TEN CENTS, In stamps, 
er pack for the slickest cards you ever shuffled, 
or $1.00 you will receive free, by express, ten packs* 


e 



HOW MANY YEARS 

Will ay Pino list? 

If it be this make it may 
outlive you. Interesting 
Catalogue. 

C. C. BRIGGS Sc CO., 

5 and 7 Appleton Street, Boston. 


25 




Johnnie had a rabbit-hunt, a big Christinas dinner, and a dream. 


WITH THE WITS. 



26 


This was his dream. 




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NEW OFFICIAL GUIDE TO HOT SPRINGS 
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READING RAILROAD 


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TWENTY-FOURTH and CHESTNUT STS. 
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J4em York Station \ foot of liberty street, north river. 


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A. A. McLEOD, 

President and General Manager. 


28 


C. G. HANCOCK, 
General Passenger Agent. 



PPifr 1 rV-tJP J33>iJ ^J^i rr p ^ ya ^ig7r3rrM^M\^ 


“IMPROVEMENT THE ORDER OP THE AGE.” 

The Smith Premier Typewriter. 



The only perfect model of a writing machine. 
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A host of other improvements that place The 
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Send for Illustrated Catalogue. 

THE SMITH PREMIER TYPEWRITER COMPANY, 
SYRACUSE, N. Y. 


BRANCH 

New York City, 293 and 295 
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Phila., Pa., 335 Chestnut St. 
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Cleveland, ()., 119 Public Sq. 
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Minneapolis, Minn., 


OFFICES : 

Detroit, Mich., 101 Griswold St. 
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THE 


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AWARDED THE MEDAL OVER 
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THE FAMOUS CARNEGIE STEEL 
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TYPEWRITERS 


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NATIONAL TYPEWRITER EXCHANGE, 

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Do you want a Present? £ 

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if you wish to take advantage 0 / this, write to 

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The name to remember when baying a 
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MONARCH CYCLES 

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29 



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SAFEST 

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FINEST 


ARE THE 



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Baltimore Ohio Railroad. 

All trains are Vestibuled from end to end, Heated by Steam, Lighted by Plntscli Gas, 
Protected by Pullman’s Anti-Telescoping Device, and operated under 
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The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad 

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PRINCIPAL OFFICES: 


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415 Broadway, New York. 

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Cor. Baltimore and Calvert Sts., Baltimore, 
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J. T. 


ODELL, 

General Manager, 


} BALTIMORE, MD. { 


30 


1351 Pennsylvania Ave„ Washington. D C 
Cor. Wood St. and Fifth Ave.. Pittsburg Pa’ 
Cor. Fourth and Vine Sts., Cincinnati ,’o 
193 Clark St., Chicago, 111. 

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CHAS. O. SCULL, 

General Passenger Agent* 



7 VUSO ELLHNEOUS 

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Are necessary in the erection of 
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NEPONSET 
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RELIABLE 
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Samples and full information FREE. 


FABRICS 


OM EAOH ROLL 

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WALLPAPER 


For 12-ft. 

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AMERICAN EBCBMT’S B 00 FI 8 G 

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PLATES.. 


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NMDIINTFn ofFamous Pain tings Sculpture, 
niriuuiw 1 L.U American and Foreign Views, 

HTOfiRAPHS Celebrities, and Figure Studies. 
vt uun/irnsi Catalogueof 10 .000 subjects and 

dmen cabinet photograph mailed for 15 cents. 

IOULTON PHOTOGRAPH CO., Salem, Mass. 



FREE 


100 Samples, latest styles, 
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book, llow to paper [ 

Order direct from the manufacturers. 

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WM. WALLACE, 1625 Pine St., Phila., Pa, 


AG 


ILANTERNS AND VIEWS 

I For Sale and Wanted. 


I MUSIC BOXES, PRGANETTES, 

I Photo. Outfits. Steam Engines, 

EllCTRTC MECHANICAL NOVELTIES, ETC. Catalogue Free. 
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The Celebrated Hygienic AIR 31 A TTR ESS is the only 
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This MACHINE FREE 

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VATER CLOSETS 


31 


The selection of a closet is a serious matter. 
Use judgment. Your health is concerned. 
The best is none too good. 

W. S. Cooper Brass Works, Philadelphia. 






MISCELLANEOUS 




THE 


CASTLE CALENDAR 


FOR 1893, 

the third of a series, pre- 
sents pictures of twelve 
more castles of Great 
Britain and Ireland, ac- 
companied by historical 
and descriptive text. It 
is a beautiful brochure 
of thirteen leaflets tied 
with ribbon, and will be 
mailed post-paid to any 
address on receipt of 10 
cents directed to 


CALENDAR DEPARTMENT, 

SHAW STOCKING CO., 

Lowell, mass., U. S. A. 



43 

TEAR 

BEFORE 

THE 

PUBLIC* 


SWEET 

TONED. 

SOLD 

ON 

MERIT. 


MODERATEPRIGES, TERMS REASONABLE 

EVERY INSTRUMENT FULLY WARRANTED. 
CATALOGUES FREE. 

EMERSON PIANO CO., 


174 TREMONT ST., 
BOSTON, MASS. 


92 FIFTH AVE. 
MFW YORK. 


It touches the SPOT. 



The new Woo<l *s Penetrating Plaster is a dis- 
tinct step forward, a wonderful improvement on 
common Porous Plasters. Wood’s is a double-quick 
plaster. 


The National Method. Princi- 
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_ pie. 20 original deals, $1.00. Competitive tests with other 
methods invited. Highest in merit ; lowest in price; simplest 
in detail; greatest in possibilities. Sent postpaid for $1 .00. 
CASSIUS M. PAINE, Editor of ** Whist," Milwaukee, Wis. 


PAIN Troops 


WITH 

DIXON S SILICA GRAPHITE PAINT 

Water will run from it pure and clean. It covers double 
the surface of any other paint, and will last four or five 
timeslongcr. Equally useful for an viron work. Senator 
s. Dixon " 


Jos. 



CRUCIBLE Co., Jersey Citv. N 


FIRST CLASS CURTAIN DESK 
Four and a Half feet long. Un- 
limited variety in stock and to order. 

# American Desk & Seating Co. 

“ 270-272 Wabash Av., CHICAGO. U.S.A. 


TYPEWRITERS. 


Unprejudiced advice given. All makes half-price. 
Shipped any where for examination. Exchanging 
a Specialty. Monthly payments. 62-page cat. free. 
TYPE wRITES | 31 Broadway, New York. 
HEADQUARTERS, 1 186 Monroe St., Chicago. 


"D a ctvttt? 

Germ-Proof Water Filter 


Are constructed on scientific principles, to meet 
every requirement for pure drinking water. 
The filtering medium will remove 


CHOLERA, TYPHOID AND ALL 
DISEASE GERMS. 


The Filter is applicable to city water supply < 
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Recommended by the highest medical authori 
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and other countries. 

SURGEON - GENERAL BERGIN, : 

charge of the quarantine service in the lower St. La^ 
rence, says “The Pasteur Filter has been found to 1 
an absolute preventive of the spread of cholera 1 
transmission of germs in drinking water.” 

PROFESSOR JOHN M A RSH ALL, oftl 
University of Pennsylvania, says “The Pasteur-Cha\ 
berland Filters are employed in bacteriological la 
oratories for the purpose of rendering liquids e 
tirely free from microbes.” 

MAJOR GEO. M. STERNBERG, Surgei 


U. S. A., says “I have tested it and believe it to 1 
the most reliable filter for the removal of disea 


germs from drinking water. 

Letters Patent of the United States cover it 
a germ-proof filtering medium of unglazt 
porcelain has been granted to Chas. E. Char 
berland, of Paris, Prance . The undersignt 
being the sole Licensee for this Country wan 
all infringers, whether makers, sellers « 
users, to respect our rights under penalty » 
prosecution . 

Write to Us for Catalogue and Prices. 


Discounts to dealers only. 

The Pasteur-Chamberland Filter Ci 


DAYTON, OHIO, U. S. A, 

Sole Licensee for the United States , Canada Mexic 



!0 Penetrating 

PLASTER 


Contains a mild solvent which opens the pores, en- 
abling the pain-killer to penetrate (go through) the 
skin and stop the ache immediately. 

Unrivalled remedy for Rheumatism, Sciatica, 
Lumbago, Kidney pains. Try one. 

(If your druggist does not keep" Wood’s Plasters, 
he can easily get them for you if you ask him.) 


Pure Wiliest Liquors 

$4.00 per Case and upwards. 


Via Express or Freight. 


Q <yn ro by mail post paid, $1.50 per 100 
^ CL 1 O aliC i U p # Complete price list free. 


/. C. Childs &* Co. y 346 8th Ave. y JV. Y. 



CUFERB FORM 
LOVELY COMPLEXION 
PERFECT HEALTH. 

These are tny portraits, and on 
account of the fraudulent air- _ 
pumps, “wafers,” etc., offered for 
development, I will tell any lady 
1 FREB what I used to secure 
these changes. II E ALTH (cure 
of that “ tired ” feeling and 
ail female diseases) Superb 
FORM, Brilliant EYES and 


perfectly Pure COMPLEX 
ION ass 



c » 


32 


assured. Will send* 
scaled letter. Avoid advertlslug frauds. Name this paper 
and odd roue Mitt. fiLLA M. Duxi, Statioa 0, baa Frauciaco, Cal 



Ask your dealer or send for catalogue. 


Mention Lippincott’s. 


A. W. FABER’S LEAD PENCILS, 

Pen-holders, Rubber Bands, and Pencil Sharpeners. 

If you cannot obtain these goods from your Stationer, send 80 cents for samples. 

BBBBHARD PABEB, 

CHICAGO, SOLE AGENT AND MANUFACTURER. NEW YORK* 



PG'PATKMT 

SUSPENDING RINGS 

Braces fob 


^UrtffrbWDING OF ALL K 11 *. — 


IKE S MEW IMmB&b 


MANUFACTURE D BY 

m, HOLMES, BOOTH & HAYDEN S. 

FACTORIES WKjEBBURY CONN. 

1 1 ^m25BakPl^^ ?2 Murray Street, New York, #|p 



&f)<) FIRST CLASS CURTAIN DESK 
4>ZZ« Fouranda Half feetlong. Un- 
limited variety In stock and to order. 

^ American Desk & Seating Co. 

270-272 Wabash Av., CHICAGO. U.S.A. 


ESTABLISHED 1848. 

FRANKLIN 


n I nni ETC Ladies and girls. 
W\ I ■ ■ Lb EiOf if you want air 

'Be, bay a Fairy Tricy 

■BEH 


C or exercis^buy a FairyTncycle-^ 

foot or 

hand power 
Address 

FAY MFC. CO., Elyria, O. 


mm 



PRINTING IRK WORKS, 

JOHN WOODRUFF'S SONS, 

1217 and. 1219 Cherry* Street, 



Send Broken Watches, Jewelry, un- 
ihciI Diamond*, etc. (until or expretM). 
We remit check immediately. H. 
Hurt, 45 Reynolds Arcade. Roches- 
ter, New York. Established 1880. 


PHILA DELPH IA, PA. 

This Magazine is printed with JohnWoodrufTs Sons* Inks. 




INDELIBLE INK. 


For marking on Linen with 
a common pen. Established 
over 50 years. Sold by all 
Druggists and Stationers in the U. S. If your dealer 


does not keep It, send 25c. for a bottle, post-paid, to 

.. Wllllston, Itlfgr., Northampton, Mats. 


A. L. 







WITH THE WITS. 



A Joke. 

Willigan. — “What’s the matter, Filligan? You look as funereal as a hu- 
morist.” 

Filligan. — “Well, I’m thinking of turning over a new leaf.” 

Willigan. — “That settles it. You are indeed a humorist.” 


The Difference. 

She (reflectively).— “There ought not to be such a difference between capital 
and labor. Can you explain it?” 

He (realizing his opportunity).— “ Certainly. To sit here like an unresponsive 
stick and watch you is labor, but” (kissing her) “this is capital J” 

34 


Torturing, Disfiguring Sirin Diseases, 

\ Whether itching, burning, bleeding, scaly, crusted, pimply, or blotchy, 
whether of the skin, scalp, or blood, whether simple, scrofulous, or hered- 
itary, are now speedily, permanently, and ecomically cured by the Cuticura 
Remedies when the best physicians and all other remedies fail. The almost 
r miraculous cures daily effected by them prove this. No statement is made 
regarding them not warranted by the strongest evidence. They are absolutely 
Y P ure , and agreeable to the most refined and sensitive. They may be used on the 
youngest infant and most delicate invalid with gratifying and unfailing success. 
They have friends in every quarter of the civilized world. People in every walk 
of life believe in them, use them, and recommend them. In a w< rd, they are the 
greatest skin cures, blood purifiers, and humor remedies of modern times. 



The Great Skin Cure, instantly allays the most intense itching, burning, and 
inflammation, permits rest and sleep, soothes and heals raw and irritated sur- 
faces, clears the skin and scalp of cruets and scales, and restores the hair. 
Cuticura Soap, the only Medicated Toilet Soap, is indispensable in cleansing 
k i diseased surfaces and for purifying and beautifying the skin. Cuticura 
Resolvent, the new blood and Skin Purifier, and greatest of Humor 
Remedies, cleanses the blood of all impurities and poisonous elements, 
and thus removes the cause. Hence, the Cuticura Remedies cure 
every humor, from the simplest facial blemish to the worst case of 
scrofula, and daily effect more great cures of torturing and disfiguring 
diseases of skin, scalp, and blood, than all other skin and blood reme- 
dies combined. Are not such remedies worthy of at least a single trial ? 
Sale greater than the combined sales of all other blood and skin remedies. 

All About the Blood, Skin, Scalp, and Hair/' 64 pages, 300 Diseases, 50 Illustra- 
tions, and 100 Testimonials, a book of priceless value to every sufferer, is wrapped about every 
bottle of the Cuticura Resolvent. Cuticura Remedies are sold throughout the world. Price, 
Cuticura, The Great Skin Cure, 50c. ; Cuticura Soap, an Exquisite Skin Purifier and Beautifier, 
25c. ; Cuticura Resolvent, the greatest of Blood Purifiers and Humor Remedies, $1.00. Prepared by the Potter 
Drug and Chemical Corporation, Boston, U.S.A. 

R pH R nil ah an d oily skin, pimples, blotches, blackheads, simple humors, and blemishes of infants and 
IVCMJgll, children are prevented and cured by that greatest of all Skin Purifiers and Beautifiers, the 
celebrated Cuticura Soap, Incomparably superior to all other skin and complexion soaps, while rivalling 
in delicacy and surpassing in purity the most expensive of toilet and nursery soaps. The only medicated toilet soap 
and the only preventive 0/ inflammation and clogging of the pores, the cause of most complexional disfigura- 
tions . Sale greater than the combined sales of all other skin and complexion soaps. 


Worcester’s Dictionary 

is the standard in Spelling, Pronunciation, and Defi- 
nition. It is the recognized authority in use among 
American schools and colleges, American orators, 
writers, poets, and statesmen, people of education, 
and the leading American newspapers and magazines. 
The work is for sale by all booksellers. Write to the 
publishers for specimen pages and testimonials. 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, 

PHILADELPHIA, PA. 


35 


WITH THE WITS. 



The Amenities of the Season. 

Well, Jemima, you had just as well put it up straight while you’re about it.” 
Jemima. Well, Mr. Abel Cane, if you are not satisfied with my work, you 
can get up here and do it yourself. I’m sure I do not wish to break my neck and 
hammer my fingers any more.” 


36 





I O’NEILL’S 


| SIXTH AVENUE, l 
f 20th to 2lst Street, 
i NEW YORK. f 


IMPORTERS and 
RETAILERS. 

Largest and finest establishment of its kind in the United States. 

CHRISTMAS IS COMING. 

When you are looking for Souvenirs suitable for Holi- 
day Gifts, call and examine our stock, for we are now 
displaying the largest and finest collection of 

Holiday Goods 

ever exhibited in this city and at the lowest prices. If 
you live out of town and it is inconvenient for you to 
call and view these goods, send us your name and 
address and we will mail you free of charge a 
HANDSOriE CATALOGUE 

Illustrating and describing our various lines and giving full 
instructions for ordering goods by mail or express, etc. 

H. O’NEILL & CO., 6th Ave., 20th to 21st St., H. Y 


See that 


hump? 

Trade-Mark reg. Apr. 19, '92- 


\<3P 



It has the grip; its 
hold was never known 
to slip. 


The De Long Patent 
Hook and Eye. 



Prudent 

Purchasers save time and mental friction by 
careful discrimination in their selection of 
sewing materials. This group shows Silk, 
Button-Hole Twist, and Worsted Roll Braid, 
each bearing the name Corticelli, which is a 
guarantee of excellence. The reputation of 
this brand has been secured by fifty-two 
years of effort, attended by uninterrupted 
success. With this name on Silk, Twist, and Braid, all of one shade to match 
the garment and each other, no thoughtful buyer hesitates. 

NONOTUCK SILK CO., Loui '' 


37 


WITH THE WITS. 



Two Points of Vikw. 


Mrs. . — “Shopping is awfully tiresome.” 

Binks (of the Dry-Goods Department, who has waited on them all the after- 
noon). — “ I guess I’ll sit still : shopping is awfully tiresome.” 


38 



MISCELLANEOUS ->i> 



THE 


PLEASANT VALLEY 
WINE CO. 

Rheims, Steuben Co., N. Y. 


This is the Finest 
Champagne produced 
in America, and com- 
pares favorably with 
European Vintages. 

A Natural Genu- 
ine Champagne, fer- 
mented in the bot- 
tle, two years being 
required to perfect 
the wine. 

Our Sweet and 
Dry Catawba and 
Port are, like all 
our Wines, made 
from Selected 
grapes, and are 
Pure Wines. 

FOR PRICES , 

ADDRESS 

D. BAUDER, 

Secretary, 



A^vour^’S Mfp^'W-ERFOR 



IT HAS A 
SIFTER 




KEEPS 

FLOUR DRY 


and FREE from 

Dust and 

Vermin. 

No 

SCATTERING 

No 

|Musty Flour. 
Saves time 

and labor. 


that will 

Last a 

Lifetime. 

Saves enough 
Flour in a year 
to 

Pay for Itself 
Longer used 

better liked _ 

Made of Tin. Japanned and Cold Lettered. 

THE BEST and ONLY PERFECT Combination 
FLOUR BIN and SIFTER ever made. 

Made In Four Sizes, to hold a Sack or Foil Barrel of Floor. 

Mrs. M. C. Martin, New Brunswick, N. J., writes: 
You may send me another 60 Lb. bin; as this is the 
third bin I have bought you will understand that we 
appreciate this useful article. 

TRY ONE. WE GUARANTEE SATISFACTION. 

Your dealer sells them or ought to. If he does not. 
please write to us for circulars and prices where we 
pay freight. SHERMAN & BUTLER, Mnfrs. 
26-28 AVest Lake Street, Chicago, 111. 


Hall’s 

It is the best, Vegetable 

i^say giefiau 

Henewer 

Thickens the growth and restores 
the youthful color to Gray Hair. 
Prevents Baldness, cures Dan- 
druff, Humors, and all Scalp 
Diseases. A fine hair dressing. 

vw 'NVasVbys 

The most complete Brown or 
Black Dye ever discovered. The 
gentlemen’s favorite. 

R. P. Hall, & Co., Proprietors, Nashua, N.H. 
Sold by all Druggists. 


u 


ACTINA, 




The Great 



Restorer I 




ONLY CATARRH CURE. 

THROW AWAY YOUR SPECTACLES. 

A CTINA is the marvel of the Nineteenth 
Century, for by its use the Blind See, 
the Deaf Hear, and Catarrh is 
impossible. Actina is an absolute certainty 
in the cure of Cataracts, Pterygiums, Granulated 
Lids, Glaucoma, Amaurosis, Myopia, Piesbyo- 
pia. Common Sore Eyes, or weakened vision 
from any cause. No animal except man 
wears spectacles. THERE NEED 
NOT BE A SPECTACLE USED ON 
THE STREETS OF THE WORLD, 
AND RARELY TO READ WITH. 
STREET GLASSES ABANDONED. 
Actina also cures Neuralgia, Headaches , Colds, 
Sore Throat, Bronchitis, and Weak Lungs . 
Actina is not a snuff or lotion, but a Per- 
fect ELECTRIC POCKET BATTERY, 
usable at all times and in all places by young 
or old. Theoue instrument w ill cure a whole 
family of any of the above forms of disease. 

A VALUABLE ROOK FREE on appli- 
cation. Contains Treatise on the Human 
System, its diseases and cure, and thousands 
of References and Testimonials. 

Beware of fraudulent imitations. See that 
the name W.C. Wilson. Inventor, Patent No. 
341,712, is stamped on each instrument. None 
genuine without. 

AGENTS W ANTED. WRITE 
FOR TERMS. 

New York and London Electric Ass'n, 

1021 MAIN ST., KANSAS CITY, MO. 


39 




WITH THE WITS. 



That all’s not gold that glitters, our 
Philosophers agree : 

The more we live, the more we doubt 
’Most everything we see. 

The fruitage often contradicts 
The promise of the tree ; 

But worst of all her gruesome lot, 
Though with abominations fraught, 
Who tries an egg and finds ’tis not 
What it’s cracked up to be. 


Silence is safe, is a maxim at its best,— i.e., maxi -mam. 


I 


40 


M- . rrr rrr rrr r r r r j 


The Hammond 

Is now a good 

Manifolder. 

The Ideal Hammond 

has its distinctive 
clastic touch. 

The 

U niversal Hammond 

has a touch with which 

type-bar 

operators are familiar. 

\ Send for a circular describing Ihe 
transformation. 

The Hammond 
Typewriter Company , 

447-449 East 5 2d St., 

Sales Office: 77 Nassau St., 

Vffew York. 

D. L. Dowo’s Health Exerciser. 

_For Brain- Workers & Sedentary People : 

1 Gentlemen, Ladles, Youths; the 
(Athlete or Invalid. A complete 
gymnasium. Takes up but 6 In, 
square floor-room ; new, scientific, 
durable, comprehensive, cheap. 
Indorsed by 30,000physieians, law- 
yers, clergymen, editors & others 
| now using it. Send for ill’d circu- 
| lar, 40 eng’s; no charge. Prof. D„ 
L. Dowd, Scientific Physical and 
Vocal Culture, 9 East 14th st., .New York. 

8 U ADTU A IVIrt Writin £ thoroughly taught 
nUK I ■■ A IM Uby 11111 il or personally. 
Dilation* procured for pupils when competent, 
end for circular. W. Cl. CHA FEE E. Oswego, N.Y. 
Book-keeping and Penmanship thoroughly taught by mail. 



PERNIN 

SHORTHAND 

LEADS ALL. 


8 to 12 weeks’ study. No shading, 
no position, read like print. Trial 
lesson free. Write PERNIN INSTI- 
TUTE Detroit, Mich. 


$20 


A 115 r r U Ladles receive whs write for ns nt h 

If LLii Reply with addressed stamped envelop* 
Woman’s Co-Operative Toilet Co., Soutk Bend, lad. 

YnilRCIITIIRC REV “ L - D 

1 uUnr.U I Untsafe 

ASTROLOGER, Drawer K, Kan. as City, Mo. 


WHAT’S IN 

A NAME? 

IT DEPENDS ! If it is “ TIFFANY” on a piece 
of jewelry or plate, it is a guarantee of the finest 
quality and superior workmanship. 

on a P iano > it means the 
“Standard of Excellence.” If it is 

PAILLARD 

ON A 

MUSIC 
BOX 

it means the acme of perfection in mechanical con- 
struction, in purity and mellowness of tone, in 
artistic effects, beauty of finish and durability. 

It Means The Best 

A cordial invitation is extended to all 
lovers of music to visit the establish- 
ment. Catalogue on application. 

M. J. PAILLARD & CO., 

680 Broadway, New York. 



STE CROIX, 


SWITZERLAND. 


[HREWSBU 

IjToFIATgKETCHlIP??^ 


"®ou might kill your stomach 
on your meat,” yet not enjoy 
your meal had it not good relish. 
But Shrewsbury Tomatoketchup 
ensures a good relish 


1L-C- Harare A/e 61^ K^tc^ 


CLARKE’S 
PURE 
RYE 


ABSOLUTELY PURE. 

The purity— age and elegant 
bouquet of Clarke’s Pure 
Bye has won tor it the title— 

The Finest Whiskey In the World 

and places It foremost for medicinal, 
club and family use. Each package bears 
17. S. Chemist’s Certificate of purity. 
None genuine without trademark C. B.& 

Co., on label. Price: per Bottle, $1.60; per 

Doz. $12; per Gal. $4; per 2 gal. $3.50, securely packed, we 
ask a trial order. Forsalebv alldruggistsor COLBURN, 
BIRk'S A CO., Sole Agents, 38 A>h St., Peoria* IlL 


HILL’S CHLORIDE OF GO jL'D T ablets 

will completely destroy the desire for Tobacco 
ir. tiny form in from 3 to 6 days. Perfectly 
harmless* cause no sickness, and may be 
given in a cup of tea or coffee, without the 
knowledge of the patient, who will voluntarily 
8 top fcmoking or Chewing in a few daya 

EASILY 



OBACCO 
HABIT 


For sale by all first-class druggists* or sent by mall on re- 
ceipt of 91.00. Ask for HILL’S Tablets* and take no others. 

Particulars free) THE OHIO CHEMICAL CO.* 
by mail. Address/ 51, 53, and 55 Opera Block* LIDIA, O. 

41 


CURED 



BOO K S 




RECENT RAMBLES; 

OR, 

IN TOUCH WITH NATURE. 


BY CHARLES C. ABBOTT, M.D., 

AUTHOR OF 

“a naturalist’s rambles about home,” ‘‘outings at odd times,” etc- 


i2mo. Cloth, $2.00. 



CONTAINING NINETEEN ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In the literature of nature Dr. Abbott’s books hold a peculiar place. With all their 
close observation they are not too technical , and their charm for the general reader is the 
more potent in that this is so. \\ e all love nature, but we do not all care to embark in a 
study of ornithology, botany, and zoology in order to appreciate it ; and in this new 
volume we find how keen our enjoyment can be, even if we do not possess such scientific 
knowledge. Those, on the other hand, who are already students of nature, will be 
fascinated by the wide and accurate information gained for them by the doctor’s numer- 
ous tramps and multiplied hours of observant idleness. The book is full of touches of 
humor, unexpected turns and pungent sayings. The illustrations are all from nature, 
and form an especial feature of this otherwise attractive volume. 


For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by the Publishers, free of expense, 
on receipt of the price. 

J. B. Lippincott Company, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 




EEESSHE 


The VESTIBDLED LIE 


Between the South via 
Cincinnati and the 
World’s Fair is via 
the C. H. and D., 
in connection with 
\ the Morion Route, 
\ with its superb 
\ trains and unex- 
celled Dining 
Cars. Pur- 


The 

Jc. n. & D. is 

I the direct line 
[between Cin- 
cinnati, Tole- 
do, Detroit, and 
principal Summer 
Resorts. Also the 
| popular line between 
Cincinnati, St. Louis, 
Keokuk, and the West, 


chase tickets 
via 

C.H.&B. 


with through car service be- \ O 
tween all points mentioned. \ * 


M. D. WOODFORD, 

President. 


E. O. McCORniCK, 

Gen’l Pass, and Ticket Agt 

CINCINNATI > O. 


■ A | BT C T Ifyou desire a trana- 
LAUIC9! parent? Cl.KA It. 
PRESH complexion, FREE from blotch, 
blemish, roughness, coarseness, redness, 
freckles or pimples u-e DR.CA MPBELL’8 
SAFE ARSENIC COMPLEXION 
WAFERS. These wonderful wafers have 
the effect of enlarging, invigorating, or filling 
out any shrunken, shrivelled or undeveloped 
parts. Price, by mail, $1, 6 Boxes. $5. Depot, 
216 6th Ave., New York, and all Druggists. 


ILADlEShl 


LLA SQLVENEomy 

mt Known. Perman- 


, liair solvent Lu.u, i cnuou- 
b ently dissolves Superiiumis 


JY BV ■ IB B viiwj vai.iooi t v/o iw >■ n 

liair, root and branch, in five minutes, without 
Ipain, discoloration or injury, particulars, 6 cts. 

■ a m mm a ■ m aa m Ikn t-Alxkoa t ll A Rnuf 


I £ , * * * | H 1 Jf « A 1 

laa ■ aa | | Plir Develops the Bust. 

I Iff! (l lal tS J I PJ r Change in ten days. Harmless 
lllinlllnbLIlh and certain. Particulars, 4 eta. 


I WILCOX SPECIFIC CO„ l'liila., Pa. 


WorKipgf 

Pl&yipg, 


or in any occupation 
incidental to a woman 's 
life, from childhood 
to motherhood, there 
is nothing so health- 
ful, comfortable, and 
graceful as 


FERRIS’ 


Good Sense 


Corset Waists. 


Worn by over a million 

mothers, misses and children. 
Clamp buckle at hip for hose 
supporters. 

Tape-fastened buttons. r 
Cord-edge button holes, fyi 
Various shapes— long, 
short, or medium. 


Sold by all 

LEAPING RETAILERS. 


MARSHALL FIELD & CO., Chicago. 

Western Wholesale Depot. 

FERRIS BROS . , Manufacturers, 
341 Broadway, New York- 


ARE YOU DEAR? 


DON’T YOU WANT TO HEAR? 


T HE Aim A PHONE will surely help you if you do. 

It it a new scientific invention which will restore the hear- 
ing of anyone n< t born deaf. When in the ear it is invis- 
ible, and does not cause the slightest discomfort in wearing. 
It is to the ear what the glasses are to the eye, — an ear spec- 
tacle. Enclose stamp for particulars. 


THE AURA PHONE COMPANY, 607 Masonic Temple, Chicago, III. 


BOYS’ SHIRT WAISTS BY MAIL. 


Send postal note, 50c., 75c., or SI. 00. Specify light 
or dark, blouse or button, and boys’ age. 

THE LONDON CLOTHING CO., Cincinnati, O. 


SILK ELASTIC 

ABDOMINAL 
SUPPORTER 

Safely sent by mail on receipt of 
price, $5. Elastic .Stock- 
mtfs, Trusses. Pamphlet/ree. 

C. W. F LAV ELL & BRO ,1005 kp.Oarden St., 



;u I'o. 


30 


days on trial. Rood’s Magic Scale, the popu- 
lar Ladies’ Tailoring System. Illustrated cir- 
cular free. Rood Magic Scale Co.. Chicago, III. 

MISS CAMILLA AVERY, South Bend, Ind., 
Box 17, pays $18 a week to ladies for writing, etc., 
at home. Reply with stamped envelope. 


Malvina cream 

For ifenutifving the Complexion. 

R emoves all Freckles. Tan. Sunburn, Pimples, Liver 
Moles, and other imperfections. Mot covering but remov- 
ing all blemishes, and permanently restoring the com- 
plexion to its original freshness. For sale at Druggists, o.- 
gent postpaid on receipt of 50e. Use Drnf I U II hart 
MALVINA ICHTHYOL SOAP rf 01 . 1 . nUOISI I 
23 Cents a Cake. 


TOLEDO, O. 


DCBTTV Pinnos, Organs, $*33 up, Want agts. 
DlAI I I Cat’lgFREE. Dan’IF. Beatty, Wash'ton.N.J- 


FREE 


PORTRAITS and FRAMES! 

Send us at once a photograph of yourself, or any member of your family, living 
or dead, and we will make you from it an enlarged Portrait, with frame complete, 
absolutely free of charge. This offer is made in order to introduce our new Portraits and Frames in your vicinity. 
Put your name and address on back of photos, and send it to BROOKLYN ART UNION, 627 Marcy Av 0 «, 
cor. Hart St., Brooklyn, N. Y. Refer you to any banks in this city. 

43 


WITH THE WITS. 



He Needed a Trim. 

Hairy Wilkins.— “ Does you handle human hair yer?” 

Clerk.— “Yes, sir.” 

Hairy Wilkins.-“ Well, I’m human. What will you give me fer mine?” 


Most Irishmen have hot tempers, aud perhaps this is the reason whv their 
native heath is called Ire-land. J 


Jones— “W hat In the world induced you to invite Brown to accompany us 
down the street? You know you detest him.” 

Smythe.— “ Entirely out of politeness.” 

r T " deed *' Wel1, judgin » b y y° ur treatment of him after he accepted 

I should say that you were ‘entirely out of politeness.’” 

44 



K\4 i^llcXUl^jd c l l x"r J r-’r J 7 J .j=L f J r J r J ??r^r^ 1 ->H^r-<i ■ , ■ , ■ , ■ , I. I. I. I. I. I . 1IL M m il 

*kf<^ MISCELLKNpnus^S*H 

>^feaa aF7w?PFP? a aBa^-^ 


Shaving* 

was introduced by 
the Romans about 300 
B. C. f Scipio Africanus 
being the first Roman 
who shaved daily. In 
France the practice of shav- 
ing arose during the ruie of 
Louis XIII. 

In England the beard figured 
prominently in history until the reign 
of Charles II, when shaving becamegen- 
eral throughout Europe. 

Comfort in shaving came in with the 

Torrey Razors 

—And— 

Torrey Strops 

The keenest razor and the most 
efficient razor sharpener known. 
Invaluable to the man with a 
hard and wiry beard. 

Every RAZOR and STROP sold 
under a guarantee to 
give satisfaction. 

Ask your dealer for 
Torrey goods. 

Our Book, how to select, 
sharpen, and keep a 
Razor in order, free. 

J.R.Torrey Razor Go., 

p. o. box 769 . Worcester, Mass. 


The 

New 


Asthma 


The African Kola Plant, 

discovered in Congo, West 
Africa, is Nature’s Sure 
Cure lor Asthma. Cure Guaranteed or No 
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45 


The New Chambers’s 

Encyclopaedia. 



Twenty years later than any Encyclopaedia in the market. New 
Type, New Subjects, New Illustrations, New Maps. A Complete 
Dictionary of Art, Science, History, Literature, Fable, Mythology, 
Biography, Geography, etc. Handsomely Illustrated with Maps 
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PUBLISHED UNDER THE AUSPICES OF 


W. & R. Chambers, 

EDINBURGH, 


J. B. Lippincott Company, 

PHILADELPHIA. 


Complete in ten volumes. Price, per vol. : Cloth, $3.00 ; cloth, 
uncut, $3.00; sheep, $4 00; half morocco, $4.50. Complete in 
sets: len volumes, cloth, $30.00; cloth, uncut, $30.00; sheep, 

$40.00 ; half morocco, $45 00. Specimen pages sent on applica- 
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It is suited in price conciseness, comprehensiveness, elegance, and accuracy for the widest circula- 
on. In point of scholarship there is no encyclopaedia which will outrank this one In the matter 

eve? aP hV 1I i 1 W J 1 ' Ch lne T e r a ^ e ^ xarnined the volumes with special care, we believe that no finer were 
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specialists is evident on every page. Certainly it is a most attractive work. Chambers's Encyclopedia 
^World ' ayS had a h ° St ° f fnendS ’ and m thlS new edltl0n they will be multiplied.”— Boston LUerary 


For sale b y a11 Booksellers, or will be sent, post-paid, on receipt of the price 

J. B. Lippincott Company, Publishers, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia 
46 



Barbara Dering, 


A NEW STORY BY 


AMELIE RIVES, 

A Sequel to “The Quick or the Dead?” 


i2mo. Cloth. $1.25. 


AMALIE RIVES. 


“ The books of this authoress,” says the New York Herald, “ have made a deeper im- 
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*** For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent by the Publishers, free of expense, on 
1 receipt of the price. 

I J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 


47 



A New Edition of the Celebrated Letters of the Earl 
of Chesterfield to His Son. 


Wit united with wisdom ; worldly prudence spoken with polish and 
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The present edition is in all respects the counterpart of Lord Mahon’s. 
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edge that the type from which they were printed is distributed and that 
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Special cloth binding, gilt top, $12.50 ; half 
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For sale by Booksellers everywhere. 


J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY \ 
Publishers , - 

7/5 and 7/7 Market St., Philadelphia. 

48 


W anamaker 



That one word tells it all. 

' It stands for bigness and broad- 
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In writing for samples, give as nearly 
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General 

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Have you tried Wanamaker’s? 
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Gloves 

Have a neat little Catalogue devoted 
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The 

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JOHN WANAMAKER. 


49 


BOOKS 


Works of William H. Prescott. 



I! 


DE LUXE LIBRARY EDITION. 


Complete in twelve volumes. Targe 8vo. Large type, printed on fine paper, and] 
neatly bound in half morocco, gilt top, $5.00 per volume, net. 


History of the Reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. Tw t o volumes. Now ready. 
History of the Conquest of Mexico. Two volumes. Now ready. 

History of the Conquest of Peru. Two volumes. Now ready. 

History of the Reign of Philip II. Three volumes. Now* ready. 

History of the Reign of Charles V. Two volumes. In preparation. 
Biographical and Critical Miscellanies. One volume. Iu preparation. 


This edition contains all the steel plates on India paper, and maps that have 
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copied from photographs of cities, public edifices, and reproductions of paintings repre- 
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The edition is limited to 250 copies. 


UNIVERSAL EDITION. 


Complete, with notes by John Foster Kirk. i2mo. Large print. 


Conquest of Peru. Two volumes. Per set, $ 1 . 00 . 
Conquest of Mexico. Three volumes. Per set, $ 1 . 50 . 


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In five volumes. With notes by John Foster Kirk. Printed from new plates on fine 
paper, with illustrations and maps. Any volume sold separately. 

The Conquest of Mexico. Complete in one volume. $ 1 . 00 . 

History of Ferdinand and Isabella. Complete in one volume. $1.00. 
Conquest of Peru and Miscellanies. Complete in one volume. $1.00. 

The Reign of Charles V. Complete in one volume. $1.00. 

The Reign of Philip II. Complete in one volume. $1.00. 

Complete iu five volumes. Price per set: cloth, $5.00; extra cloth, gilt top, $6.25: 
half calf, gilt top, $ 12.50 ; half calf, marbled edges, $12.50. 



J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, Publishers, 

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50 



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